The Lessons We Learn
by IronicNarwhal
Summary: Every tear that had to fall from my eyes. Every day I wondered how I'd get through the night...Some pages turned, some bridges burned, but there were lessons learned. A year in the life of the Bohemians. High School Fic. All canon pairings apply. Mark/OC.
1. Prologue: Meeting an Angel

A/N: Uh…hi? This is a first for me! I've tried to post high school fics before, but don't post them because…uhm…I get scared that people will not like my writing and I'll continue, paying no heed to the whole thing, and then someone's just gonna finally come out of the woodwork and say, "You suck! Stop writing" And then I'll cry and…yeah…

**Now, the following information is important if you expect to understand certain aspects of the story**: **when Angel is in drag I will refer to her as "she" and when out, I will refer to him as "he".** The semantics are to keep myself from getting confused…Oh, and **the wig will usually be the indicator.** For instance, if she's undressing, **the moment the wig comes of I will start using 'he'**. On the contrary, **if** **it is taken off by someone else or is off for a very short period of time, she may still be refered to as she**. It all depends on the situation. If she is the one to take it off, I don't care if she's still got the skirt and makeup on, she will from then on be he. And **when** **people are talking about her, but she is not physically there, she will also be she.** Most of the time, except for, well…you'll figure it out okay? Okay, I'm shutting up now, just please enjoy, everyone. I live to make people happy.

One last thing: Song of the week (I'll have one of these every week just incase someone feels like having something to listen to) Of All the Gin Joints in All the World – Fall Out Boy.

Disclaimer: I'm not just about to disgrace the memory of Jonathan Larson by claiming this is mine! I'm not that creative! ME NO OWNIE ANYTHING!

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Prologue: Meeting an Angel

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**

"Thomas, child! Get down here and eat your breakfast!"

Thomas Collins groaned and sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and glaring at the light streaming in through his bedroom window, outside of which a chipmunk was perched on a long branch of the oak tree which blocked half his window with it's voluminous green leaves. The chipmunk squeaked at the site of movement in the room it had been staring into and scampered into some unseen region of the tree.

Groaning at the sound of his grandmother yelling again, he screamed, "I'M _UP_, GRAMS!" Before rolling out of bed (literally) and all but crawling to the bathroom.

He groaned at the sight of his messy, longer (or puffier, as his hair didn't so much grow down as out) than usual hair; it was time for a haircut again. Meaning another one of Jessica Collins' butchered-hair specials, which he knew he would have to pretend to like for the seven-year-old's sake, before letting his mother fix it as soon as she was gone.

He examined the rest of his reflection. He had puffy cheeks; the type that filled out a lot at the top when he smiled, which he'd inherited from his mother. His skin was the color of coffee with a bit of cream added, and his eyes were brown. He had grown tall the last few years and his head was only a few inches below the top of the mirror. He smiled brightly at his own reflection, and then scowled, just to see what it would look like. He laughed at himself, realizing he was just being psychotic now, and quickly opened the medicine cabinet, yanking his toothbrush and paste out from the piles of products on the shelves.

After brushing his teeth to get rid of morning breath, he showered quickly and got dressed. He exited his bedroom in time to see Jessica zoom down the hall at light speed, clutching her doll.

"What's up, Jess?" Collins questioned, stopping the girl by placing a hand in front of her for her to slow down. She didn't and crashed her forehead into his hand, protesting loudly at the sudden lack in motion and the pain, and glared at her older brother. "Margaret fell in the sink! I need to put her in the dryer to dry out!"

Staring at the sequins on the doll's dress, no doubt made of cheep plastic that would melt in the hot confines of the dryer, he shook his head. "Not a good idea, kido. How about we clip her dress to the clothes line and you dry her hair with a towel?"

She stared at Collins in shock. "Nu-uh! I'm not letting Margaret go naked! 'Specially in front of…" her voice quieted to a whisper as though the doll would not want to head her next word. "Boys…"

He frowned. "Does your doll have testosterone issues?"

She frowned in return, exaggerating it in the way only a seven-year-old could. "No! She just doesn't like cooties! And everyone knows all boys have cooties! You should know that, Tommy! Since you _are_ a boy!"

"What if I acted like a girl?" Collins asked. It was one of Jessica's favorite games; 'What If'. "Would I still have cooties then?"

She thought for a second. "I guess not…because if you acted like a girl, then you'd grow your hair out…but you'd still have then until you grew your hair out because if you have short hair, you're a boy."

Collins shook his head, not for the first time trying to understand the logic of a seven-year-old, and continued down the hallway, calling to Jessica, "Jess, if you don't want Margaret and her dress to be melted blobs of _goo_ in the dryer, then don't put her in it!"

At the shriek of, "GOO?!" from the laundry room, he knew he had won the argument and smiled, celebrating the minor victory in his head.

"Child, what did you say to your sister?" Alberta Collins questioned her grandson as he sauntered in, looking proud of himself.

"I just told her that if she didn't want to scoop melted Barbie off of the dryer's drum, then she shouldn't try to put Margaret through it," was Collins' simple and rushed response as he walked over to where his mother was flipping pancakes and took an already-prepared plate from the counter next to her, greeting, "Morning, Mama" along with a kiss to the cheek, and plopped his plate onto the table, sitting down next to his grandma. "Pass the syrup, Grams."

"How are you this morning, Tom?" Alberta questioned, taking another bite of her own pancakes while passing the teenager the syrup as requested.

"Fine," he replied. "Roger and Mark are gonna be here later; we're gonna hang out someplace."

"Where would "someplace" be?" Suzan Collins, paranoid mother of two that she was, always needed to know where her children would be located.

He shrugged. "We were thinking about going to Mark's. Or maybe Roger's. But Roger's mom works midnights, so she probably won't want us making noise downstairs so yeah, probably Mark's. Or, we might go hang out a Sylvia's, or we might –"

"In other words, the boy doesn't know where they're going to be," Grams concluded.

"Well, when you end up where you end up," Suzan continued, placing her own plate of pancakes before the chair at the head of the table and sitting. "Call me either from the house phone or the nearest payphone if you can find one, and tell me where you are."

Collins nodded – That wouldn't be too hard, there was a payphone and bus stop on nearly every corner in their small New England town. And he knew for a fact that Sylvia's Pizza Parlor had a payphone on its corner. "We got any orange juice, Mom?"

"Fridge," Suzan replied through a mouthful of syrup and dough.

Collins rose, pushing his plate back so the ever-energetic Daisy, a golden retriever puppy which they had gotten a month ago, couldn't get to it.

The man of the house, Clayton Collins, came tromping down the stairs just then, knotting his tie. Looking up towards his family, he smiled noticing they were mostly all there and entered the kitchen, kissing Suzan's cheek and grabbing his own breakfast plate, taking a seat next to his son and patting him on the shoulder. "Good morning, everyone." He glanced around, obviously looking for a missing something or someone. "Where's Jess?"

"Hanging her Barbie out the window," Collins snorted into his orange juice. "She should be down in a minute."

Sure enough, the little girl came skipping down the stairs a few moments later and retook her seat, resuming the munching of her half-eaten stack of pancakes.

"Hey there, Princess," Clayton greeted, smiling across the table at his daughter. Jessica beamed in response, not wanting to talk with her mouth full but trying to convey the returning of the sentiment.

"So what's on the agenda this fine summer day?" Clayton asked.

"Your mother said something about taking Jessica to the park; let her feed the pigeons," Suzan revealed. "Tom was just telling us that Roger and Mark would be by later to drag him off someplace."

"Where will you be going?" the accountant questioned his son.

"Anywhere between Mark's house and Sylvia's, apparently," Grams mumbled. "Those boys can't seem to decide anything."

"Who's Sylvia?" Clayton questioned.

"Sylvia's is the pizza place, Dad," Collins reminded, rolling his eyes. Daisy snuffled at the hair hopefully as Grams rose and placed her plate in the sink, running water over it and replacing it in the dish washer.

"Or we might go to the record shop," Collins added as an after thought, remembering something Roger had said about wanting a new album from some band he hadn't heard of, but which apparently Mark disliked.

"Well, I think we've pretty much covered most of the town's social establishments," Suzan remarked.

Shrugging and popping the last bit of pancake in his mouth, Collins stood and repeated his grandmother's actions at the sink. He rolled his eyes at Daisy, whom was whining at his sister's feet, and remarked, "Dog acts like she hasn't eaten in a week…"

"Have you been feeding that dog, Jess?" Grams asked, fueling Collins' thunder by going along with the joke.

"Yes," Grumbled an outraged Jess, indignant that anyone would even think of accusing her of not taking care of _her_ dog.

The doorbell rang then, and Collins bounded down the front hallway, yelling, "I'll bet that's them!" to his family before reaching the door and yanking it open, coming face-to-face with Roger Davis. Grinning, he high-fived the blonde, looking over his shoulder to see some girl who he vaguely remembered seeing at school at some point. "Hi…?"

"Oh, right," Roger said, turning towards the girl. "Mimi, Tom Collins, call him Collins. Collins, Mimi. She's a friend of Mark's, she wanted to come along."

"Where is Mark anyway?" Collins questioned, smiling at the younger girl. She was short and very skinny, wearing a blue tee-shirt and a jean skirt. Her hair was very kinky and slung over one shoulder; he could imagine it making a nice nest for a few rats if she ever neglected to take care of it for a day. Her skin was a darkish color; a little too dark to just be a tan, obviously speaking of Hispanic decent.

"Around the corner someplace," Roger replied. Roger was tall (though standing next to Collins he looked average) with short, light blonde hair that he maintained religiously. He seemed to always be wearing the same pair of plaid pants (In actuality, he'd gotten five pairs of them at a discount price several years ago) and today had chosen a green tee-shirt to go along with them. "Stopped to do something like film a leaf falling from a tree…"

Collins shook his head; their friend was going through an abstract phase at the moment, only filming in-the-moment things, and had sworn off filming human life until his next project was done.

"So Mimi," Collins began, looking towards the girl; Mimi, Roger had introduced her as. "Where do you live?"

"A few blocks away from Mark," she replied. "I go to your school; I'm a member of student council?"

"Oh, right," Collins stated, knowing he'd seen her someplace. "Yeah, you're Mimi Marquez. You're always getting up and promoting Student Council at assemblies and stuff, right? You're like the president or something?"

"Treasurer, actually," Mimi replied. "We've got a really lazy president, and a vice president who's totally terrified of public speaking, so I get all the speaking work pushed onto me. I used to be on debate squad, too. I find arguing as an extra curricular an interesting concept. But then my ex boyfriend joined and I didn't really find it fun anymore, so I quite. Quite Student Council, too…lot of pompous bastards, not enough fun."

Collins nodded, realizing this girl was one of those sharing-types.

"Mimi's the type of person who'll tell you her entire life story in response to one question," Mark revealed, coming out of no where to stand next to said Latina. "She's a friend of mine from student council."

Mark was pale and strawberry blonde. Collins loved to refer to him as his 'albino pumpkin-head'. Mark was also Jewish and very defensive of his religion even though he was the first to mouth off about it when something rubbed him the wrong way. He was always wearing the same blue and white scarf and seemed to have his camera (gifted to him at age thirteen by his grandmother) permanently welded to his hand.

"He's the vice president who's totally terrified of public speaking," Mimi piped up, grinning at Mark. "So where are we going, guys?"

"Well, seeing as we all just ate breakfast, Sylvia's is out," Collins remarked, sitting on the top step of his stoop, leaning his elbows on his knees and pondering. "Roger – didn't you say something about the record store on Thursday?"

"Yeah," Roger agreed. "Everyone okay with going there?"

They all agreed and congregated together at the stoop, waiting for Collins to go in and alert his family of his leaving, before hurrying back out. "Ready?"

"When you are," Roger replied, watching as Collins pulled out his keys and unlocked the front driver's side door of his red sedan (Which had been his mother's until his seventeenth birthday that previous January), using the driver's controls to unlock the rest of the doors. All three other teens crowded into the car, Mark in the front passenger's side, with Mimi behind him in the back and Roger next to her behind Collins. "Buckle up, guys."

"You're no fun," Roger remarked, the only one to complain.

"No, I'm smart," Collins replied, tapping his temple. "I don't need another violation."

"Don't argue with the man," Mark advised, from where he was placing his camera back in a blue bag he had slung around his neck. Mark was still driving on a permit and was a very cautious driver.

"Do you usually not wear a seatbelt?" Mimi asked, as Collins pulled out of the driveway and began down the street of the neighborhood they all lived in.

Roger shrugged. "We're going five miles down the road; it's gonna take like ten minutes to get there. And Collins is a safe driver."

Mimi rolled her eyes. "You're one of the rebel types, right? One of those ones that rocks out to Metal and goes to wild parties?"

Roger shrugged. "Not really…"

"Roger's actually more of a poet than the thug he appears to be, if you can believe it," Collins told her, rolling down his window and letting the warm summer air blow around the car. "And if you tell anyone that, I'm sure we'll find your body someday."

"Ha. Ha," Mimi replied dryly.

"And let _me_ guess," Roger began. "You're one of those goody-goody types, huh? The teacher's pet and all?" At Mimi's responding scowl and shove, he knew he had either hit the right note, or struck a nerve.

"That's were you're wrong," Mimi growled. "I can be as bad as I want. I ain't any good girl, boy."

Roger looked a tiny bit afraid, and mumbled, "So you _don't_ follow the rules?"

Mimi shrugged, replying, "No; I just…tip-toe around some of them. Without rules, this world will fall into chaos. Just not all of them are important."

"Oh, really?" Mark interrupted, not wanting an argument to distract Collins – his mother had made sure that he'd had all the ways and rules of traffic drilled into his brain the second he turned sixteen. "Then maybe you could attempt to explain the wonders of rules to our friend Collins here."

"How so?" Mimi questioned cautiously.

"Anarchy is his thing," Roger informed, chuckling.

Mimi frowned and took to staring out her window.

* * *

They arrived at the record store not ten minutes after they left (It never took more than fifteen minutes to get anywhere in that town) and Roger hoped out, more than eager to escape the awkward quiet that had enveloped them all since Mimi's lapse into silence. Mark wound around and opened Mimi's door for her, hopping onto the sidewalk in front of the store and watching the Latina emerge from the red car and smooth down her skirt.

They entered the store to find that Roger had already run off down one of the many isles of music, but they could clearly see his head bobbing up and down to something he was listening to in the nearby rock section, and didn't feel the need to go join him. Looking from one person to the next, Collins announced, "I'm gonna go over and look at the new releases, anyone wanna come with?"

Mimi, who didn't know a whole lot about the modern music scene as most of her mother's musical tastes were still preoccupied with the sixties, declined and instead headed off into the jazz section.

They weren't there five minutes when and loud cry of, "Mimichica!" rang through the store and the body of a tall girl crashed into Mimi's. Mimi, looking slightly stunned for all of two seconds, quickly realized who her attacker was and cried, "Angel!" in return, before hugging the brunette tightly.

Collins, noticing the ruckus, put the record he was looking at down and made his way down the aisle Mimi was in, cautiously approaching the two girls.

The new person – Angel, Mimi had called her – was also a Latina. She wore a knee-length violet skirt and a yellow, long-necked short-sleeved top. Collins was pretty sure combining these two colors was some sort of fashion-don't but she somehow made it work. Her hair was a dark chocolate brown and cut in a style that reached her jaw line in front but got progressively shorter as it ascended back. She also had heals on, but Collins guessed that even without the tall shoes she would still tower over the short Mimi.

"Hi," He greeted friendlily. "I'm Collins. You're a friend of Mimi's?"

"Are you?" Angel asked, looking him up and down, smiling. "I've never met you, I don't think."

"He's a friend of Mark's," Mimi told her. "This is Angel, Collins. Angel Dumott Schunard. And that's Tom Collins, Angel. He's an anarchist."

Angel grinned. "Really?"

Collins shrugged. "I wouldn't choose that word _exactly_…"

Angel giggled, shaking Collins' hand – actually, she'd been wondering if his name was really Tom Collins. "Well, whatever. It's still a pleasure to meet you, Collins."

"You too, Angel," Collins returned, shaking back, though with about half of the enthusiasm. He realized he loved the way her accent twisted the 'o' in his name to sound more like an 'a'.

Angel smiled at him again. It was a rather enchanted smile; almost a grin and Collins suddenly realized they'd been shaking hands for a full minute, though there wasn't any more up and down action so it appeared as though they were just gripping hands in midair.

"Hey, Collins!" Roger called across three rows. "Come check out this single – It's supposed to be good."

"Hey, I have a better idea," Collins replied. "Bring the vinyl here, and meet pretty little Angel over here while I'm lookin' at it!"

Angel immediately blushed, looked at Mimi who told her, "He likes you," In a tone that she obviously thought Collins wouldn't hear. He did, and smiled. She was sure cute – a very attractive Latina with spicy flare. But he just wasn't that interested in her like that. Could it be the fact that he was gay? Ah, yes; he was rather under the impression that it was. But he grinned charmingly at Angel all the same. She blushed and smiled down at the ground, shuffling her feet.

But there was something different about her; he couldn't put his finger on it, but she just wasn't like other girls…Maybe it was just her peculiar fashion sense.

"Okay," Roger mumbled, confused as he wandered over to them, handing Collins the record. "Hi, I'm Roger Davis. You are…?"

"Angel Dumott Schunard," Angel replied, shaking his hand energetically. "I'm a friend of Mimi's. I hope I'm not intruding on anything?"

"No," Roger replied. "We weren't really doing anything. What do you think, man?"

Collins shrugged. "I've heard it on the radio, and it's really nothing to scream about. If you wanna buy it, fine with me, but don't expect me to be pitching in."

Roger nodded and took the record back; holding onto it which meant he'd either already decided to buy it or was seriously leaning towards that option. Looking back towards Angel, he questioned, "So…You go to our school?"

"Mmm-hmm," Angel replied, staring at an album. "Hey, Mimi – Check it out, these guys are great."

As Mimi took the album from her, Roger stared at her in confusion. "I've never seen you around…and our class is pretty small."

"Mimi and I are a year younger than you," Angel replied, smiling. "We're going into eleventh this year, and you're seniors, right? Yeah. So we don't have the same classes. What lunch did you have last year?"

"'A'," Rodger said.

"See, that's why I didn't see you – I had 'B' lunch," Angel revealed, rocking on the balls of her feet in a way which made her giddiness obvious. "So, do you like?"

Mimi nodded, pressing the album back into her fellow Latina's hands. "Yeah. Track eight is one of my favorite songs. Buy it, Chica!"

Angel followed commands and removed the bright orange backpack from around her shoulders, rummaging through it until she found a pink wallet covered in cute drawings of frogs, and removed a small stack of money – mostly ones.

"Got enough?" Mimi pestered, glancing over her friend's shoulder.

"Well…factoring tax…" Angel mumbled. "I'm about a dollar fifty short; anyone wanna help me out?"

Collins' hand flew to his jeans pocket seemingly without thought and pulled out a pile of change, searching through it and eventually locating six quarters. He gathered them into an organized piled and placed them in Angel's hand, curling her fingers around the mound of change as though placing a dear object in her hands. "Here."

Angel stared down at the stack of change, looking back up and smiling shyly at Collins. "Thanks. I'll pay you back."

Collins shook his head. "Consider it a favor – No need."

Angel grinned and added the quarters to her handful of money. "Thanks a lot, Collins." Bouncing up and down at the knees a few times, she looked over at Mimi, giggling and dragging her to the pay counter with her.

"She's cute," Roger told Collins, watching the girl's backside appreciatively as she bounced alongside Mimi to the counter.

"Which one?" Collins asked, feeling rather possessive all of a sudden. Something animalistic and primal in him wanted to show Roger where he stood, as though he'd made his claim. God, he had to stop thinking this way; he was sure it was bad for his health.

"Both of them," Roger replied, leering over at Collins with a smirk. "The one – Angel – She's a bit flat though, if you know what I'm saying…"

Collins slapped Rodger in the back of the head. "Come on, man! Think on top of your shoulders for once! Not between your legs!"

"Like you weren't staring at the exact same things I was," Roger grumbled, crossing his arms.

Collins stared at him like he'd suddenly gone completely insane. "You really think so, Roger?"

Roger opened his mouth, but closed it again. "Aw, shit. That's right! Sorry, man; I forgot."

Collins shrugged; he supposed he couldn't blame Roger. He and Mark were the first people he'd come out to, and that had really been by force when they'd been over and discovered a copy of _Men's Health_ under his pillow. They had known it wasn't for the advice on how to get perfect abs. But he guessed every gay guy had to get that 'forcibly evicted from the closet' experience once, and his had just come early on. The only problem was he wasn't sure if he wanted to be more thankful or resentful of that fact.

The girls were back beside them quickly enough, Angel toting a black bag with the store's yellow logo on it. "You know, it's so unfair that I've been away most of the summer! We've only got two weeks of freedom left!"

"Where were you?" Collins asked.

"In Guatemala," Angel replied, "visiting some relatives."

"So you're Guatemalan?" Collins asked.

"And Puerto Rican," Angel replied. "That's just where my mother's side of the family is from. It's…complicated."

"Oh," Collins replied; this girl was becoming more and more exotic in his eyes the longer he talked to her. It was obvious she was of Hispanic decent but he still had to wonder about the name. "So…You're Puerto Rican on your dad's side and Guatemalan on your mom's side, yet you have a French last name."

"Pretty much," Angel replied, pretending to ponder the accurate summarization.

"Where's your last name from then?" Collins asked, as they all migrated towards several tables located in the coffee shop in the record store. He, Angel, and Mimi sat down at one table while Roger chose one in the same general area and reserved a place for Mark by resting his foot in the second chair across from him.

"Well, my mom's dad is French, and her mother was Guatemalan," Angel explained, beginning the long, complicated story of her last name. "My father was French and Puerto Rican. My mom moved to Puerto Rico on a student Visa and stayed there on that until she got her green card and then her citizenship. Then, she met my father. They never married and when I was born, they hyphenated my last name; Dumott, my father, and Schunard, my mother. Then my father left my mother for some bitch with implants and we moved here after my mother helped my grandma get her green card. I was eight at the time. So I had to learn a new grammar system and deal with people telling me for the first three months of third grade that I talked funny. Not that I still didn't talk funny after three months, they just got used to it. I'm babbling again, right? I'll shut up."

Mimi sighed, reaching across the table and patting Angel's arm, trying to hold in her laughter. "Yeah, Chica…I think that's best."

Angel pouted playfully, looking over at Collins. "Does that explain the whole thing? I know it's confusing but…story of my life, huh?"

"Hey, if you wanna hear a story some time, ask Collins about moving all the way from New Mexico to New York with his grandmother driving the whole way. Now _that's_ a tale," Roger snorted.

"Here you guys are. Thought I'd lost ya," Mark suddenly materialized at their side at the table, a bag swinging from his arm. Upon closer inspection, Collins could see the cover of the latest Pat Benatar album through the translucent yellow of the flimsy shopping bag. "Oh, hey Angel. I didn't know you were back from your trip yet."

"We aren't supposed to be," Angel replied. "But some shit went down between my mom and Aunt Eva and we caught an early flight back. What's going on in your world, Marky? How are things going with Maureen?"

"Oh, as good as they ever have," Mark sighed, wandering over from his and Roger's table and leaning against it. "I tried to convince to her go to summer camp with me this year, but she wouldn't budge. So it was pretty lonely without you."

"You go to Mark's summer camp?" Collins asked, by now _really_ wondering why they hadn't meant before. "Have you been hiding from Mark's other friends or is it just some huge coincidence that we've never meant before? 'Cuz I would have thought you'd just come up in conversation at one point or another."

Angel shrugged.

"Wait…" Rodger mumbled from the next table, where Mark laid his things and sat down. "Isn't Mark's summer camp guys only?"

"They recently began allowing girls," Angel informed, her eyebrows pushed together in a little more offense than Collins thought she should have taken given the circumstances. "About three years ago. Why would Mark be trying to convince his girlfriend to come along if it was boys only?"

"Oh," Roger mumbled, blushing slightly at the realization of his second faux pas in less than half an hour. "Right. Sorry."

Angel excused it with a smile and a wave of a brilliant-blue nail-lacquered hand, seeming to get over it quite quickly despite the level of defense which had backed her earlier statement. Maybe the girl was having a hormonal week or something…

Collins took the liberty of getting them all coffee – All of them iced mochas; it was the middle of August, after all. Angel and Mimi requested a piece of cheesecake to share and Roger and Mark both wanted a big cookie, so Angel came along and helped him carry everything. He handed her two drinks and she giggled, staring at the cookies and plate and questioned, "Okay, how're we gonna do this?"

"Good question," Collins appraised, grinning at her. "Let's see… I think I can take one more cup if you can get the cookies and we can have Mimi come over here and get the cheesecake."

"Genius," Angel replied, shifting one of the iced mochas from her hand into the crook Collins' elbow created. She snorted when some sloshed out of one of the cups she was holding and licked the side, mumbling, "Guess this one's mine…" before grabbing the cookies and leading the way back over to the table.

"Mimi, go get the cheesecake; will you Chica?" Angel requested as she distributed the coffees, laying the one already contaminated with her DNA in front of her place. She glanced at the marking on one of the cookie bags. "Who got the Oatmeal Chocolate Chip? Or are they the same?"

Mark held his hand out for the cookie while Roger told Angel he'd 'ordered peanut butter, thank you very much' and jokingly snatched the bag from her. She pretended to look offended, crossed her arms and huffed, sitting down with an obnoxious, _plop_ into her chair. Everyone laughed at their antics.

"So…any heads up from you guys for junior year this year?" Mimi asked hopefully, glancing at the two future seniors at the table. Mark, a junior as well, also glanced up in interest. Angel nodded her interest in the question while pulling her spoon slowly from her mouth, relishing the chocolate cheesecake. Collins found himself fascinated by her.

"Uhm…Well, if you get Mrs. McMillan, then you've got it pretty easy," Roger said, grinning. "She's a great science teacher – she works with you and she's really nice. Mrs. King is the one you've gotta worry about."

"Woman has eyes in the back of her head," Collins agreed. "Not to mention horns hidden under that mop she calls hair."

"I swear, the first time I saw that woman, I thought she was a man in woman's clothing," Roger mumbled, grinning.

Collins noticed Angel bristle.

"There's really nothing memorable or noteworthy about the rest of 'em," Collins said, shrugging. "They're teachers – nothing remarkable."

Mimi nodded, scrapping chocolate from off the bottom of the plate.

"So you're an anarchist," Angel began, leaning across the table and smiled a secretive grin at him, which Mimi saw and grinned about. Obviously, both girls knew something he didn't. In fact – he was pretty sure Mark was in on the whole thing too, whatever it was. "What exactly does that entitle, Mr. Collins?"

Collins shrugged. "I dunno, basically…going against authority. Going against the rules…against the grain."

"Doing everything you can to piss off the higher powers, huh?" Angel asked.

Collins nodded. "Yeah. I can hang cool with that."

"I guess we're kind of alike in that regard," Angel murmured, mysteriously. She didn't explain her statement, just gave him a look which he suspected had a deeper meaning than he could decode.

Angel eventually had to leave, telling the boys and Mimi that she'd promised her mother that she'd be back by two o'clock. The rest finished their coffees, and wandered around the strip mall the record store was in for a while longer, before a mutual want to leave drew them all back to Collins' red four door by three o'clock. First to be dropped off was Roger, then Mimi only about two blocks down. Collins and Mark were left alone in the car, with a comfortable silence nestled around them.

"I think Angel likes you," Mark mumbled.

"You think?" Collins asked, eyes straying from the road for all of a split second to glance at Mark out of the corner of his eyes. Mark looked scandalized at the action, and Collins turned his eyes back to the road, knowing he'd probably lost Safe Driver merits from the strawberry blonde boy.

"I'm sure, in fact," Mark replied. "She was using every Angel Dumott Schunard Patented Flirting Technique in the book."

Collins nodded. "She's not my type, man. The vagina would be a bit of a turn off."

Mark nodded. "Well, you might want to revise that once you get to know her."

Collins rolled his eyes; even if she had the greatest personality on the face of the planet, he wasn't just about to go straight for that girl. He could ignore that impulse in the back of his mind, right? Right? "How's that, Mark?"

Mark shook his head. "Nothing…It's…not my place to tell you. Angel'll tell you when she's ready."

"Mark, boy, you ain't making no sense over there, you know that?"

"You'll understand eventually," Mark said, mysteriously as he unbuckled his seatbelt; they'd arrived at his house. He got out, waving, and walked into the house.

Collins shook his head, frowning. "What is your secret, Angel Dumott Schunard? What is your secret…?"

**

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End chapter; TBC

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**

AN: Yeah… I hope you liked that! THANK YOU EVER SO MUCH TO **MARKY'S SCARFY** FOR ALL THE HELP WITH BETAING AND MY MOANING ABOUT PLOTLINES AND EVERYTHING! SHE IS AMAZING! GO READ HER STORIES – THEY ARE LITERARY CRACK!!!

One more thing, then I'll let you go on with your lives: **Update day is Friday**. I will be post every Friday at or around four P.M.; set your clocks by it, people. I'm reliable this time.

-Lynn


	2. Chapter 1: Back to School Blues

A/N: Dija miss me? I know; it was lonely without your favorite lunatic, wasn't it? :D Here's the next one. Working on the Carnations Series, don't worry; I haven't forgotten! Love you guys!

Song of the week: This Ain't a Scene, it's an Arm's Race – Fall Out Boy. *loves it and them*

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT. That's Jonathon Larson's (RIP) gig.

**

* * *

Chapter 1: Back to School Blues

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**

Thirteen days later and Collins was being dragged around by his mother and sister, shopping for school supplies. He wondered, vaguely, why Jessica needed mechanical pencils when regular number two's worked just fine. But he would probably never be able to understand the female brain, even if said brain was only seven years old. All he needed were a few notebooks, folders, and a binder for science and he was set. Suzan agreed to unleash him to the store, and around he wandered, until stumbling upon the men's clothing department.

He was lazily searching through a clearance rack of tee-shirts (They were two for eight bucks and he could use some new shirts for the coming school year) when a head popped up on the other side of the rack and he glanced up, noticing the movement out of his peripheral vision. He did a double take and blinked three times rapidly, making sure he wasn't imagining what was in front of him.

Standing before him had to be the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. He had dark caramel-colored skin and full, red lips. His head was shaped in a strange way, but endearingly so, and he had the clearest, most beautiful eyes. Collins let go of the shirt he was holding and accidentally dropped it on the floor, forgetting that it wasn't on the hook. He bent down to pick it up, when someone brushed past him and set him off balance, sending him tumbling to the ground.

Mister Mystery Boy looked up and, seeing no one at eye level, glanced down. A grin formed on his face, and it was obvious he was trying – and failing – to hold back giggles. "Oh, honey, are you okay?" He knelt down next to him, offering a hand. "C'mon. Up ya go."

Collins grumbled low in his throat (He didn't appreciate being laughed at, even by this pretty boy) and got up with the boy's help.

"Thanks," he mumbled, smiling a grudging smile. The boy grinned, and Collins' smile got a bit more heartfelt in response.

They smiled at each other for a few seconds, before, at the same time, they blurted their names.

"Friends call me Collins, Tom Collins."

"I'm Angel."

Their eyes widened at the same time, crying the other's name in return.

"Angel?!"

"Collins?!"

"What the Hell…?"

"I didn't recognize you! Oh, no…"

Collins stared unbelievingly at Angel. He had meant him at the record store two Saturdays ago – but at the time, he had been heavily under the impression that Angel was a girl. As, at that time, he happened to have been in a skirt and was Collins realized must have been a wig. "Is…is that really you, girl?"

Angel stuttered, struggling to come up with an answer. "I…Collins…Look, it's complicated, and I can't really explain it to you in the middle of Wal-Mart, and…"

Collins held up a hand, shaking his head. "Angel, Angel, calm down. This is just…a shock. A really big shock…Uhm…"

Angel nodded, smiling slightly. "You're not freaked or anything?"

Collins shook his head. "No. To tell you the truth, there are much worse things that I can find out about you. So you're a…?"

"Drag queen?" Angel supplied, turning back to the shirts and glancing at them boredly – They weren't flashy enough for him, but he needed to expand his male-centered wardrobe for the coming school year. "Yes, dear, I am." He removed an orange one from the rack and held it against his arm, shaking his head when he didn't like the contrast between the shirt and his skin tone.

Collins nodded dumbly, unable to think of anything else to do. "Uh-huh…"

"You're sure you don't have a problem with it?" Angel asked, biting his lip, glanced at his from the corner of his eye as he pretended to occupy himself with a navy blue one. It wouldn't be the first time someone he'd trusted with his secret turned on him.

Collins shook his head frantically. "No! No! It's…it's not that, it's just…"

"You've never heard of a teenaged drag queen?" Angel suggested, placing the blue one in the hand basket he carried. "Never met a drag queen? What?"

"That," Collins grinned. "And the fact that I can't believe you look as cute as a boy as a girl."

Angel blushed, fiddling with the navy shirt. "Th-Thank you."

Collins blushed in return, dragging the toe of his shoe across the floor. "You're welcome."

"You're cute when you blush," Angel murmured, eyes shining from below his eyelashes. He placed a lime green shirt in the basket.

"Ditto," Collins replied.

"Angel! Angel, sweetheart, where were you?!"

An unfamiliar woman came into view, wheeling a cart, with Mimi in toe. Collins waved at the familiar Latina, who grinned and waved excitedly. "Collins! Hi, how are you, huh?"

"Great!" Collins replied energetically. "I'm just running into everyone today!"

Mimi giggled. "Well, the only reason I'm here is because Angel's here. This is his mom; they offered to let me go back-to-school shopping with them." She hopped over to Angel and swung an arm around his neck, quite literally hanging off him. "Same reason you're here, I'm guessing?"

Collins nodded. "'Tis the season."

Mimi nodded, glancing over at Angel. "I'm glad to see that you're taking the whole situation so well, actually." She murmured to Collins, gesturing to Angel's male-oriented outfit. "There are a lot of people who haven't…"

Collins grinned, shrugging. "It's all good with me."

Angel grinned from where he was now standing next to his mother, having managed to achieve the impossible and pry Mimi from his body. The Hispanic woman was tall, and Collins could see much of her in Angel, which, if he remembered correctly, was only amplified when the boy was in drag. She held out her hand. "Marcella Schunard. And you are…?"

"Thomas," he replied, taking her hand and shaking. "Friends call me by my last name though; Collins. I'm…I guess I'm a friend of your son's."

Marcella nodded, smiling. "Good to meet you, Collins." She turned back to Angel and Mimi. "You two got everything you're gonna need?"

Angel held up his carrying basket which was full of all the back-to-school stuff he would need, and Mimi pointed to the cart Marcella was pushing for her evidence. Marcella gazed at all the supplies and nodded, satisfied. "Good. We should get going, kids. It was nice to meet you Collins. Don't be a stranger; our house is always open to visitors."

Collins nodded, realizing she must have thought he'd been a long-time friend of her son that she had just never met. "Nice to meet you too, Miss Schunard. I'll see you guys around, okay?"

Mimi nodded, hugging him a bit. He watched her go, and he wondered when he'd become a good enough friend to warrant a hug.

"Mimi makes friends easily," Angel murmured, smiling tentatively at him. Collins furrowed his brows; the boy hadn't been this shy when he'd met him at the record store. In fact, he'd seemed quite excitable and energetic. Collins didn't understand this sudden change, and didn't know if he liked it, either.

"What's wrong?" Collins asked. "You seem…nervous? Do I make you uncomfortable?"

Angel nodded. "Yeah." Collins looked wounded and he hastened to explain. "Not like that! It's not in a bad way…it's just…I guess I want to impress you…? I dunno…"

Collins grinned, and decided to just take a leap off of the cloud that was his comfort zone; that fluffy bitch was getting annoying anyway. "Would you mind going on a date with me? Say…I dunno…next Friday?"

Angel looked up, grinning and nodding enthusiastically, and Collins saw a glimpse of that confident young woman whom he'd met in the record store more than a week ago. "I'd…I'd love to, Collins. What time?"

Collins shrugged. "How about six thirty seven-ish?"

Angel grinned beautifully again, and Collins felt his heart begin to slowly melt. "Sounds perfect. I'll see you Friday, okay?"

Collins nodded. "Or before that. School starts tomorrow."

Angel groaned. "Don't remind me!"

Collins chuckled. "As long as you don't remind _me_, girl."

"Deal," Angel replied, giggling with appreciation at the noun he'd chosen.

"Angel! Come on, sweetheart, we need to get going!" came Marcella's voice from the check-out line. Angel turned back towards Collins, and quickly hugged him before running over to join his mother and best friend, immediately whispering in her ear. Collins spent a few more minutes staring blankly at the tee-shirts before just picking two at random and draping them over his arm. He wandered back towards the school supplies and found Jessica trying to decide between two notebooks, frowning.

"Tommy, I need your opinion," she said, turning towards him the second she realized he'd reentered her general radar vicinity. "The purple one or the puppy dog one?" She held them both up.

"I'd say the puppies one," Collins replied, wondering why she even needed his opinion; the girl had always loved dogs, and they were her favorite kind; Golden Retrievers.

"But this one's fuzzyyyyy…" Jessica mumbled. Collins reached out, and indeed, he made contact with a hard-covered fuzzy notebook. He shrugged. "Get 'em both, if you like them enough."

"I don't have enough," Jessica sighed, referring to the money their mother had handed out to them upon entering the store. Her budget consisted of only twenty dollars; after all, how much could a second grader possibly need?

"Here," Collins said, pulling out a five and giving it to his sister. "That enough?"

Jessica nodded frantically. "Thanks, Tommy!"

"Don't tell Mom, okay, Jess?" he begged. She nodded, running off to go find said woman.

* * *

"Tom?"

Collins groaned, rolling over and glaring at his mother, whom had her head poked in the door. She smiled pityingly and told him, "School, baby. Come on, wake up."

He groaned again, pulling the covers over his head. Suzan raised her voice, as though the blankets were too thick for him to hear her at her normal speaking volume. "I've gotta go into work early, baby. Grams is in the kitchen making Jess some oatmeal, get dressed and go down there. I'll see you tonight."

Collins sighed, getting up and hugging his mother goodbye. She playfully frowned at him, scolding him for growing so much (At six-two, he towered over her) then ruffled his hair affectionately and kissed his forehead. She then hurried down the stairs, buttoning her coat on the way and exited the house. He walked back into his room, pulling out his outfit for the day and walking into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later and he was bathed. He arrived downstairs, to see Jessica already dressed, sitting in a stool at the kitchen counter and shoveling oatmeal into her mouth while scribbling in her new fuzzy notebook. He sat next to her and Grams placed a hot bowl of Apples 'N Cinnamon oatmeal in front of him, ruffling his hair. He batted her hands away, mumbling, "Geez…what's everyone's fascination with my hair today…?" before pulling his knit cap over it.

"Child, when was the last time you washed that thing?" Grams asked, frowning. "You wear it every day."

He shrugged.

"Wash it," she commanded, before going into the living room and turning on PBS morning programming which Jessica and Collins watched from the kitchen. The only sounds for a few moments were those of _Dragon Tales_, the clicking of Gram's knitting needles, and the quiet sounds of early morning from the open kitchen window.

"I've gotta go," Collins said, standing up and taking his bowl to the sink. "I need to catch the bus. I'll see you guys after school. Have a good first day, kiddo."

Jessica nodded. She was now drawing a cartoon that resembled Mickey Mouse in her notebook.

The sun was glowing in the far east as he set out and walked the three blocks to the bus stop. Soon enough, Roger met him and Mark wasn't far behind him. They waved at Collins and sat next to him on the curb, staring sleepily ahead of them. None of them were used to waking up at this hour after a summer of going to bed at two in the morning and sleeping in till noon.

Mimi joined a few moments after Mark arrived and they all greeted her with tired waves, or in Roger's case, half a wave before yawning and covering his mouth with the hand he was using to wave. Mimi didn't think anything of it, though, just leaned against the bus stop sign and appearing to try and fall back to sleep standing up.

A perky voice chirped, "Morning, everyone." And they all jumped, not expecting the voice after so long a silence. The boys all looked up and Collins yawned, "Oh, hey Angel." While Roger mumbled, "I know you?" And Mark replied, "What's up?"

"Hi, yes, and nothing much," Angel replied to the responses in order, giggling into his hand and coming forward to accept a sleepy one-armed hug from Mimi.

"Angel?" Roger asked, frowning. "You're a guy?"

Angel accredited his bluntness to tiredness and nodded replying just as bluntly for the exhaustion-dazed teen, "Yeah, Roger. I'm a drag queen."

"Oh," Roger replied, shrugging, "good for you. Explains a lot."

"I'm friends with the best people," Angel sighed semi-sarcastically, but he beamed inside, glad to avoid a problem.

The next to arrive were Joanne Jefferson and Maureen Johnson. Both were girls whom lived across the street from Mark in the better part of the neighborhood. One, the brunette and energetic Maureen, was Mark's girlfriend of two months and had been his best friend before they'd started dating. She was tall; a bit above average for a female of her age. Both her shirt and pants were tight and just on the right side of decent but no one really cared anymore, knowing there was no arguing with her about her wardrobe. As they walked up, she flashed a huge smile. That was another thing about Maureen; she had the biggest mouth of the group, both figuratively and physically. It helped with her singing and acting career.

Joanne was a mutual friend of Mark and Maureen and a basic outlier of the group. She was friendly enough with them but wasn't especially close with anyone except maybe Maureen and Collins. She was a bit shorter, with kinky honey-brown hair and a mocha skin tone. Her face was slightly sever, and she worried too much but she wasn't unpleasant to be around. Her attire consisted of a pair of what Maureen liked to call 'mom jeans' and a tucked in pink polo shirt. She was really the only one in their group – hell, the whole grade – that followed the dress code closely.

As they arrived, Maureen and Mark smiled friendlily at each other but didn't kiss as they normally would and little buzzers went off in everyone's heads, telling them the status quo had somehow altered without their realizing it.

"What's going on with you two?" Roger asked, frowning and staring at them. Maureen bit her lip, staring over at Mark. He nodded.

"We broke up," Maureen sighed, plopping down on the other side of Collins. "I…I kinda came out to him as a lesbian."

"Good for you!" Collins cheered, grinning and a little more awake in light of the announcement. "I'm glad you trust us with knowing who you really are, girl." Personally, though he loved both Maureen and Mark like family, he had to admit that they had been a bit of a train wreck-couple and they were much better as friends.

Maureen grinned, reaching out for Joanne's hand and pulling her down beside her. "Jo and I are together now. Mark's been really, really understanding about the whole thing."

Mark smiled, leaning his head in his hands. "It's okay. I can't blame you for being who you are."

Maureen awed and hugged Mark to her, kissing his cheek. She looked up and noticed Angel and Mimi and said, "I'm sorry. I don't think we've met?"

"Oh, this is Mimi and Angel, Maureen," Mark introduced. "Angel's been going to my summer camp since we were nine and Mimi is a friend from student council."

"Nice to meet you," Maureen replied, shaking both their hands. Joanne copied this and soon they all lapsed back into silence, all in various stages of half-consciousness. The yellow school bus pulled up a few moments later and they all got on, greeting Mr. Larry, the beloved bus driver for route nine, and choosing seats towards the back, Maureen next to Joanne, Mark next to Roger, Collins next to Angel, and Mimi in front of them, turned in her seat and leaning over the back so she could talk to Angel.

"So what team are you on this year?" Mimi asked. Their classes were separated into teams, which consisted of four core teachers which everyone on the team rotated around to.

"The Stag team," Angel replied. "With Mr. Stag, Mrs. McMillan, Mrs. Creek, and Mrs. King."

Mimi squealed. "We're on the same team! Who's your first hour?"

"Uh…Kellick," Angel replied. "I've got Choir first hour."

Mimi grabbed his schedule and compared the two, a grin splitting her face once she read them. "We've got everything together except our fourth and seventh hours!"

Angel grinned excitedly and grabbed his schedule back, but immediately groaned. "Uhg! I've got PE with Mr. Clarkston _and_ art with Ms. Mopturk! Someone kill me now!"

Collins leaned over his shoulder and pointed to his sixth hour. "Hey, why do you need Spanish?"

Angel grinned at him. "Easy A, darling. Who doesn't want an easy A?"

Collins grinned in response. "A's are all easy for me, girl."

"Way to inflate your own ego, Collins," Mimi scoffed, grabbing his schedule. Her eyes widened. "Wow. You really are a genius…"

Angel pulled the paper from her and saw that he had all Advanced Placement classes. "Wow. I feel incredibly dumb."

"Collins has that effect on everyone," Mark sighed, scrubbing his glasses on his sweater and placing them back on his face. "He even exhausted all the options for advanced math, so they made him a teaching assistant to the freshmen. Oh, and he's also not allowed on the school computers anymore because he hacked into the system and somehow changed all the screensavers for every computer in the school to read, "Actual Reality, ACT UP, Fight AIDS" for a whole three weeks before they figured out how to stop it."

"Actual Reality?" Angel asked, turned towards him. He grinned.

"It's this philosophical theory of mine. Maybe I'll explain it to you sometime," Collins replied.

"Collins flatters himself by referring to himself as an anarchist," Mark said. "He's really just a chaos-wreaker."

Angel giggled, handing him his schedule back and Collins shoved it in his bag. He looked at Roger, Maureen, and Joanne and laughed when he found them all asleep.

"I'll never understand people who behave like that," Angel informed. "Morning is the best time of day. Who would want to waste it sleeping?"

"Get back to me in about a month when you've gotta walk four blocks in the freezing cold morning after the first frost," Collins said, shivering just as the thought. "If you can tell me you enjoy that, _then_ we'll talk, girl."

"Okay, okay, you win," Angel sighed, crossing his arms and pouting. Collins could already see himself loosing many arguments against Angel with that pout. He laid his head on Collins' shoulder and the bus stopped, opening the door to let some people on. The second bus stop was always the busiest and soon the bus was three-fourths full. Everyone stared over at Collins, and someone in a row cattycorner to them mumbled to his seat partner, "I heard Collins came out as gay this summer, but I didn't want to believe it…"

"Who's the kid with him?"

"I think it's that fag who everyone says dresses up in drag on the weekends."

"He does. Nichole Sumner saw him at the Life in a skirt."

"Really?"

"No kidding."

"That's wrong."

"Sick."

Angel had slowly buried his face deeper and deeper into Collins' shirt and groaned quietly, gripping his sleeve tightly. Collins sighed, running a hand up his arm and telepathically begging the boys to shut up. It didn't work, and they continued to hiss insults to each other most of the way, only stopping when they appeared to run out of "sick" or "wrong" aspects of Angel and Collins.

The school came in to view and Mimi leaned across Angel to yell at Roger that it was time to wake up, while Mark leaned across the isle and did a slightly quieter version of the whole thing to bring Maureen and Joanne back from the dead.

Mark pulled out his camera when they stepped onto the grass of the campus and began filming as Roger lead them to their usual pre- and post-school hangout at a picnic table under a tree. Collins, Roger, Maureen, Joanne, Mark, and Mimi all sat on the benches while Angel sat on the table it's self.

"August 30th, 1989, 7:35 AM, eastern-standard time," he informed the camera. "My abstract phase isn't going well. I've decided to go back to filming my friends and seeing what comes of it. So, the introductions." He turned the camera on the group. "First, we have the lovely Maureen Johnson, drama queen extraordinaire." Maureen struck a pose that consisted of much arm flailing and nearly hit Collins in the nose. "Then next to her is Tom Collins, anarchist and computer genius." Collins waved, pushing Maureen's hand away. "Mimi Marquez, curly-haired Latin cutie." Mimi giggled. "Angel Dumott-Schunard, the Hispanic with a French name." Angel blew a kiss at the camera. "Joanne Jefferson, future attorney at law." Joanne smiled. "And finally, Roger Davis, rocker and professional sulker." Roger flipped the camera off. "Today is the first day of Senior or Junior year for us."

They all groaned as if cued.

"And we're all currently waiting for the bell," Mark continued. "Come on guys, isn't there anyone who's happy to be back at school?"

"I don't care, really," Collins sighed. "I just hate being up this early."

"Speak for yourself," Mimi said. "Yee who only hath one year of torture left. Most of the rest of us have to suffer."

"Yeah," Maureen and Angel chorused.

"Being a junior sucks," Maureen sighed.

"I hear ya girl," Mimi sighed, hi-fiving the drama queen.

The old, rusted outside bell let out a metallic ring, reminiscent of a spoon banging against a tin can and they all groaned, standing from the table and picking up their bags, walking inside.

"Off to Vocal are we," Angel sighed, slinging an arm around Mimi's shoulders. Mimi wrapped an arm around his waist and they used each other for a leaning post for a few moments before heading off towards the choir room. Maureen waved to everyone and ran after them, calling that she had their first hour too, to which they both grinned and they all linked arms.

"Anyone else got Valleys first hour?" Collins asked, seeing that he had gym first hour with the female PE teacher.

"Me," Roger replied, holding up his schedule. "Maybe this'll wake us up."

Collins nodded his agreement while Mark walked in the opposite direction, saying something about media productions, and Joanne walked off to art.

* * *

Collins and Roger arrived in the cafeteria after fifth hour that day and chose a table, reserving several spots for whoever happened to have B lunch with them. Mark walked into the cafeteria, pumping his fist, and hurried over to them, slinging his bag onto the back of his chair and sitting. "Yes. Lunch together at last!"

All past years, at least one of them had had 'A' lunch.

Maureen came giddily hopping into the cafeteria a few moments later, happily dragging a smiling Joanne behind her, and they could hear her squeal when she saw them from half-way across the room.

Collins gazed hopefully at the cafeteria doors, but the flow of students soon turned to only a trickle then stopped altogether, and he didn't recognize any of the stragglers coming in. He frowned disappointedly.

"Huh. Guess Angel and Mimi had 'A' lunch," Roger mumbled, mostly indifferently as he looked back at his notebook, which was already filled out with some complicated math equation they'd been told to work out for homework that night. "Too bad…"

Then, a large group of about thirty kids entered, and jostling along with the fray were two familiar faces. Collins' face immediately brightened and he waved, trying to get the two Hispanics' attention. "Yo! Angel, Mimi! Over here!"

Angel and Mimi looked up, grinned, and ran over, claiming the last two seats at the table. Angel breathed a sigh of relief, realizing they were all there, and grumbled, "Sorry. The Astronomy teacher can't tell time."

They all laughed and gave joking condolences.

"I'm just glad we all have lunch together," Angel said. "I had 'B' lunch last year and Mimi didn't, so I was pretty much alone. This one girl was really nice, though. Kept me company…I think her name was a month or something…June or May…April, maybe…"

Roger's head came up and Collins and Mark both groaned at the name. "April Erickson?"

Angel nodded eagerly. "Yeah! That's her! You knew her?"

"Used to date her," Roger replied, doodling in the margins of his book. "She moved away over the summer."

"And left Roger without a note or anything," Mark added. "She was just gone one day. We don't talk about her."

Angel nodded, frowning, and pulled out his science book, opening it and glaring at the page they'd been assigned as though it was refusing give him the answer to life despite knowing exactly what it was. "Does anyone know anything about Astronomy?"

"Nope," most of them chorused. Collins asked, "What do you need help on?" and Angel pushed his book across to him, showing him the assignment which consisted of calculating the exact distance of the moons of Saturn and when the next time two of their orbits would overlap if they kept with the pattern they'd been in for nearly three billion years. Through lunch, he explained the mathematical equation which would get him to the answer he needed fastest and easiest. At the end of lunch, Collins told him if he needed help he could call him after school and he could walk him through it more over the phone. This ended in them exchanging phone numbers and Angel having one more thing to squeal with Mimi about.

At the end of the day, they all decided to go straight home rather than hang out at the tree after school, and Collins arrived home, whistling and greeted his grandmother with a wave. He walked into the kitchen and settled his homework out in front of him; he figured he might as well do what little he had before Angel called and he got hopelessly distracted.

He'd just finished a worksheet on John F. Kennedy when the phone rang and he rushed to it, calling, "I'm done with my homework, Grams!" grabbed the phone, and breathed, "Hello?"

"Hey, tutor!" Angel cried from the other end of the line. "So, would you maybe be up to helping me with math too? This stuff is murder."

"No problem," Collins replied. "Walk me through it."

"Okay, well, it had something to do with long division, which I've never been good at…"

* * *

"Tom, baby, tell your friend you'll call her back, okay?" Suzan called.

Collins grinned; of course, she'd think he was talking to a girl, since he'd been referring to Angel as such the whole time. They'd been talking a good two hours by then, and dinner was ready.

"Gotta go, Ang," Collins informed reluctantly, putting on a pout he knew Angel couldn't see.

"Okay," Angel replied. "I should go too. Hey, what are we doing on Friday? Just so I know what to wear?"

"Ahah," Collins said, grinning. "No hints, Ang. But whatever you decide to wear will be fine. You'll find out on Friday, girl. In the meantime, I'll see you tomorrow, huh?"

"Tomorrow," Angel confirmed, sounding playfully put-out, before they said their goodbyes and hung up.

"So who's this Angel and where are you going on Friday?" Clayton asked, grinning at his son and patting his shoulder.

Collins blushed. "Just a…girl from school; we're going on a date on Friday. I asked her out last week at Wal-Mart."

Clayton chuckled. "Good for you, son."

Collins smiled, and couldn't stop himself from suddenly flashing to thoughts about Angel…his eyes, her glossed lips, his soft, curly hair and her eccentric outfits and couldn't help but feel that he'd struck the jackpot.

**

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End Chapter; TBC

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A/N: Wow. That was epic. Thanks for reading, everyone! Next chapter; date night!! Oh, and thank you so much once again to **Marky's Scarfy** for the betaing! She's a lifesaver! :D

And, I just realized something I thought was pretty funny. There's this interview out there with Wilson Jermaine Heredia being asked about his parent's reaction the first time they saw him as Angel. And he says at one point, something like, "I looked just like my Mama!" And I didn't realize I'd done that! I mentioned Angel looking a lot like her mom when in drag…just a little thing I thought was kinda funny. Yup; that was my ramble this chapter!

Reviews are the pickles to my tub! Please review!

-Lynn


	3. Chapter 2: A Fallen Angel

A/N: Hey! How are you, everyone!? Great to know! I had the weirdest dream the other day and it had something to do with a boat, Angel, Collins, and a few of my friends from school. We were all on this boat and it was kinda decrepit and we had to stay on it, and I only remember fragments but it's one of the strangest things I've ever dreamed, that's for sure. All I know is when I woke up I really wanted to cry! Then again I was probably just a tiny bit hormonal that particular day…

Song of the week: Some Hearts – Carry Underwood. *sigh* it's true…some hearts get lucky sometimes! Like Angel and Collins! I mean, how likely?! Meeting the love of your life after having the shit beaten outta you? Yeah, I thought so too! Strange and impossible! :D

Disclaimer: Hello, everyone! I just wanna say I do not own RENT. Jonathon Larson, may be rest in peace, owns all. He will get all his characters back in their original forms when I'm done playing. Larson Bless.

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Chapter 2: A Fallen Angel

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**

On Wednesday, Angel wasn't at school, and Collins frowned most of the day. It was like he was missing his own personal sun with the absence of Angel shadowing him through the halls. He sat with a pout on his face through lunch and Roger was thoroughly annoyed by moment twenty-three of sulking. Didn't Collins know by now that the role of 'downer' at their table was occupied by _him_ and him only?

"Collins," Roger sighed, throwing his pencil down on the table and glaring at his best friend. "_Please_ stop. Angel isn't _dead_, okay? He's _sick_. You can visit him after school and make him chicken soup or something. Cheer the fuck up! Think of puppies and rainbows or something!"

"You should talk Roger," Mimi hissed from next to Mark, working on science homework together. "But he's got a point, Collins. If you want, I'll give you Angel's address and you can visit him after school, okay? He's not avoiding you or anything if that's what you're thinking. He woke up this morning with this really bad fever; couldn't even get out of bed."

Collins' frown deepened, his hopes of Angel recovering in just one day's time deflating as they spoke. "He's really bad, huh?"

Mimi shrugged. "He's not just about to jump up and run around, no. But he's not dying or anything. He should be fine in a few days; he always recovers well." Secretly, she knew this wasn't true; strains of sickness always had a way of sticking with her best friend for weeks afterwards, but she wasn't just about to squash Collins' hopes even further by telling him this.

Collins sighed, twirling the core of his apple by its stem and beating on the table with his pencil. "Maybe I'll visit him after school…"

"Good idea," Mimi replied. She handed him a small stack of papers stuck into Angel's science book. "He'll need these. I'll get the rest of his assignments durring the day; just drop by my locker on your way home and I'll give them to you, okay?"

Collins nodded, taking them and plopping them atop his own History book. He placed the scraps from his lunch on his tray and got up, throwing it in the trash, just as the cafeteria monitors called out that lunch was over and they had five minutes to get to their sixth hours.

Collins and Joanne had their sixth hour – English – together, and since they'd been able to pick their seats the first day instead of having them assigned according to alphabetical order, they sat at a table together. They pulled out their books and exchanged questions on the homework from the previous night, but stopped vocalizing when Mrs. Manor walked in and began the lesson. They took to passing notes.

Eventually, the subject suddenly changed without Collins' knowledge.

_So…what's going on with you and Angel?_

_What do you mean?_

_You two seem really close. How long have you known each other?_

_Three weeks come Friday._

_Weird. You two act like you've known each other all your lives._

_I __feel__ like I've known him my whole life. We met at the record store two Fridays ago, and then I ran into him at Wal-Mart the day before school started and asked him out._

_So you are gay? Why didn't you ever tell me? Do Mark and Roger know?_

_Yeah, they know, but I asked them not to say anything. _

_Are you going to tell Mo?_

_At some point._

_When? Live for today, Collins._

_Don't you start; Mimi won't stop preaching at me about that, you know that?_

Joanne ripped another paper out of her notebook, as the other was full, and scribbled furiously on it, before folding it and holding it out to him. Mrs. Manor happened to look up then, and scowled, booming, "Collins! Joanne! Are you passing notes back there?!"

"No ma'am!" they chorused, as Collins discretely tugged the paper from her and shoved it in his binder.

"Pay attention," she scolded, before going back to her lecture on the structure of a well-rounded sonnet.

* * *

Collins and Mimi met by Mimi's locker at the end of the day and Mimi led him over to Angel's locker, putting in the combination and opening it to reveal all of Angel's things. There was an extra hoodie hanging from a hook, all his books were on the shelf, and his student ID swung from his lanyard on another hook. On the door were several pictures, tapped on. One was of Angel in drag, waving at the camera from atop a garden wall. Several were of Angel with his mother and with a woman who looked to be in her late sixties whom Collins could only assume was his grandmother. Another was very young version of Angel and Mimi by an unfamiliar body of striking blue water. The final one was of Angel and Mark sitting on a dock with their feet in a pool of water, arms around each other's shoulders and grinning at whoever was taking the picture.

"That's from Puerto Rico," Mimi said, pointing to the picture by the water. "We actually met in Puerto Rico, because we both lived there. When Angel came to America, I was so miserable that my dad shipped me off to live here with my mom just so I wouldn't mope anymore. Then that one with Mark is from summer camp last year or the year before that. You know her mother, and the other woman is her Abuela."

"Does Angel like being refered to as a he or a she better?" Collins asked while taking the English book and worksheet Mimi handed him and placing them in his own bag. "Not to sound insensitive, but I just need to know. I've been calling him girl, but referring to him as he and it's almost like he's got multiple personality disorder or something at this point."

"I think she really prefers to be refered to as she but she didn't saying anything to you because she didn't want you to feel bad," Mimi said. "Even when she's out of drag, most us refer to her as she, and if she's right in front of me and out of drag, I'll still say she, so yeah. Angel's she to most of us. Does that explain everything?"

"More than everything," Collins replied, grinning. "You sure you don't wanna come along?"

Mimi nodded. "Yeah. I can let someone else take the heavy books for once." She added in her head, _I think Angel would appreciate your face just as much as mine and I think you'd be good for each other… _"And my mom is coming to pick me up later so I've gotta stay here."

"Okay," Collins said, swinging his admittedly very heavy bag over his shoulder. He accepted Mimi's one-armed hug and patted her back, before hurrying out the door and onto the bus, greeting Mr. Larry and sitting in the front of the bus. Mark and Roger were sitting a bit farther back and he waved to them.

"Are you coming over later?" Maureen asked from across the isle. "I've got that computer I wanted to show you, remember? We can play Pong and stuff."

Collins groaned and hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Oh, shit, girl! I totally forgot! Do you think we could reschedule for Saturday? I'm going to be over at Angel's house today and probably tomorrow. And I've got plans Friday but if they fall through then I'll be at Angel's then, too."

Maureen nodded. "That's okay. You wanna come over, Pookie?" she leaned over the back of her seat, making a pitiful pout at her girlfriend.

Joanne shrugged. "Don't see why not." She glanced over at Collins, giving him a meaningful look. Collins made a face at her, and she rolled her eyes, gesturing for him to come sit next to her. He rolled his eyes, getting up when the bus stopped at a red light and plopped down beside her. "What, Joanne?"

"Did you ever read the rest of my note from English?" Joanne asked.

Collins shook his head, then reached into his backpack and pulled out his English binder, pulling the folded note out of one of the flaps and reading it.

_Mimi is right. You never know what tomorrow will bring. Do what you have to today, because you might not be around long enough to procrastinate. Tell Angel how you feel. I'm sure it'll mean a lot to him. No day but today._

Collins looked up and Joanne and back down towards the note, rubbing his fingers over his eyelids and sighing. "Joanne…I…"

Joanne patted his back just as the bus stopped. "I know you'll make the right decision, Collins. Just…don't take too long to make it. This could - no, I'm pretty sure it _will - _be good for you."

Collins nodded, getting up and exiting the bus, waiting for Roger to get off as well (The second bus stop on the home ride was closer to Mark, Maureen and Joanne's houses than the first) before starting to head off down the street.

"Are you coming over?" Roger asked, noticing that Collins was following him down his street instead of going down his own.

Collins shook his head. "No. Angel lives on the same street as you. I'm taking him his assignments."

"Oh," Roger replied, shrugging, before walking up the walkway to his house. He waved. "See you tomorrow."

Collins nodded, waving in return, and continuing four houses down to the corner house. He stared at the red brick house, took a deep breath, and walked up the walk, ringing the door.

To his surprise, the first person he saw was Angel. He was very pale and ashen faced and was in a navy blue hoodie with pink yoga pants. He grinned a bit and waved, rasping, "Hey, Collins. Why're you here?"

Collins pointed to his backpack. "I come baring your assignments, milady."

Angel pouted a bit, but it was only a shadow of what it normally was. "And here I thought you were here to see pretty little me. Well." he made a face. "I thought you were here to see me."

"And I wanted to see how you were doing," Collins added, gesturing to the inside. "May I come in?"

Angel held the door open a bit further and nodded. "Of course." He led Collins into the house and into the living room, telling him to make himself at home, and asking if he wanted anything to drink.

"No, you sit, rest," Collins said, getting up and gently guiding Angel to the couch. "Are you here alone? Where are your mother and grandmother?"

"Mom's at work," Angel sighed. "Abuela said she might be over later, but I dunno… She lives in the next town over." He lay down on the couch, groaning loudly and pulling the blanket down from the back of the couch. "I'm freeeezing…"

"Want something to warm up with?" Collins asked, stepping into the unfamiliar kitchen and glancing around. "Like warm milk?"

"Tea," Angel mumbled. "Tea would be nice. Would you boil some water for me, Col?"

"Sure," Collins replied, glancing into the cabinets for a tea pot. Angel mumbled something about the cabinet closest to the refrigerator and he opened it. The kettle fell out atop his head and he let out a cry. Angel let out a scream in response, and they sat in terrified silence for a moment or two before beginning to laugh. Collins picked up the kettle, which had fallen onto the counter after conking him, and walked over to the sink, filling it and putting it on to boil. He then joined Angel in the living room, sitting in an armchair close to his head.

Angel rolled over, staring mournfully at him, and mumbled, "I'm dying" into his pillow.

"No, you're not," Collins sighed, leaning forward and brushing a finger over his brow. His skin was unpleasantly hot and he frowned. "Oh…babygirl, you're burning up…"

"Really?" Angel asked, sarcastically, "I didn't know that…"

"Do you have anything to make it go down? Like Tylenol or something?" Collins asked, frowning still. He leaned forward and gently kissed Angel's forehead, feeling a few sweat beads there. "Yeah. I'd say that's at least one-hundred one."

"I ran out, but I just took the last dose; it should start kicking in soon."

Collins nodded, sitting back and watching Angel as if he would suddenly start convulsing or faint. Angel's eyes suddenly lit up as though he'd just realized he was there, and he mumbled, "You are aware of the fact that you just called me baby, right?"

Collins nodded. "Yeah. Sorry, I guess it was kind of an unconscious thing."

Angel shook his head, rolling over to stare at the ceiling. "No. I kinda liked it. Tissue."

"Huh?" Collins asked, frowning at him. Angel's nose was scrunched up and his face was turning red.

"Tissue," Angel repeated, gesturing wildly towards the coffee table, atop which sat a box of Kleenex. He quickly ripped one out and handed it to Angel, who tugged it from his hands and held it to his mouth just in time to sneeze ferociously into it. He sniffed, slowly removing it from his nose and groaned, "Uhg…why do I look?" before crumpling it up and tossing it in a wastebasket at the other end of the couch.

A piercing whistle rang through the air and Collins jumped, looking back towards the kitchen; he'd forgotten about the kettle. He quickly ran in and took the kettle off the stove, resting it on a wooden cutting board. He located a mug decorated with snowmen and reindeer and grinned when he saw it said, "Angelo Jorge Dumott Schunard, first Christmas, 1973."

"Your name is really a mouthful," Collins said as he filled the cup with hot water, then dipped a teabag into it. "Do you want your tea strong or weak or somewhere in between?"

"As strong as you can get it," Angel sighed. "You found that idiotic Christmas cup, didn't you?"

Collins laughed, "Yes. But I think it's cute. Angelo, huh?"

"That's my given name," Angel replied, "but if you call me anything but what I tell you to, you'll die."

Collins continued to shake with quiet laughter as he swirled the teabag around the cup until it was a dark, rich color. "Do you take anything in it?"

"Put shitloads of cream in it," Angel directed, "and a bit of sugar."

This sent Collins into another tangent of laughter, as he jokingly questioned Angel how exactly to measure out a shitload with a measuring cup. The throw pillow Angel tossed at him in response fell about four feet short of the kitchen and he stuck his tongue out at him, while pouring a more than ample amount of cream and a pinch of sugar into the mix before carrying it carefully into the living room and setting the cup on the coffee table. Angel gripped it tightly in his hands and breathed in the scent, sighing, satisfied, and took a large sip.

"Thanks, I'm warmer now," Angel said grinning and setting it back on the table. "Aren't you having any?"

"Nah," Collins replied. "I hear tea has more caffeine than coffee."

"That's a lie," Angel replied immediately. "It's only got about half. The nutritional values don't lie." He sipped again, then settled down in his blankets and felt his body start to warm up, starting with his stomach and stretching outwards.

There was silence while Angel drank his tea and Collins marinated in his spinning thoughts. Angel mumbled, "Thanks for this," prompting Collins to shake his head and mumble, "no problem girl," in return.

"So what homework have I got?" Angel groaned, pulling Collins' backpack towards himself and unzipping the top.

"Well, I know you've got science and English," Collins said, pointing to the science book. "But don't ask me what and you might have math, in which case I'll help you because your mind is too sick to work this way."

Angel grinned, sticking his tongue out. "Yup. I'm decrepit."

"I said help, not do it for you," Collins said, joining him on the couch and pulling out the rest of the books, all of which he recognized from last year. "Yup. You've got math. What're you working on?"

"Performing equations backwards according to the order of operations to reach the value of X," Angel drawled into his ear, putting on a monotone voice and lolling his head onto Collins' shoulder.

"Oh, the undo method of solving for X?" Collins asked, scooting closer to him to glare down onto the same page. "Yeah, I can help you with this. It's pretty simple, actually. What's your assignment?"

Angel opened the book to the page where a bright pink sticky note glared shockingly bright from between pages, and mumbled, "Numbers eight and ten."

Collins nodded, pulling the book onto his own lap and folding Angel's notebook to an open page, before starting to explain it to him.

* * *

They spent half an hour on math and only half that time on English and science combined. Then Angel was literally out like a light on the couch and Collins smiled, watching him curl around a pillow and breathe heavily through his mouth. Pressing his lips to the Latino's forehead, he was glad to see that Angel's fever had gone down, and added one more kiss before stacking all his homework on the table and sitting back down, starting into the world of Romeo and Juliet, the first subject of the year in English.

When he looked up and saw it was nearing six o'clock, he mumbled a few obscenities under his breath and stood, shoving everything in his backpack and gently shaking Angel awake.

"Huh?" he gasped, eyes snapping open. He rubbed the heels of his hands into them. "Wha…?"

"I've gotta go, babygirl," Collins said, still using that nickname he'd admitted to liking. "I'll see you tomorrow, if not at school, I'll come over later. Your grandma should be here soon, huh? If she's coming, that is."

Angel nodded, awareness slowly sinking back into him. "Okay. I'll see you, huh?"

"Yeah," Collins replied, leaning down and kissing his forehead one last time. "Your fever's breaking. Keep taking that Tylenol, girl."

Angel grinned, snuggling deeper into his covers and nuzzling into his hand. "Okay. I'll see you."

"Get better," Collins commanded, before picking up his bag and exiting, trailing his fingers through Angel's hair as he went, just to have connection for as long as possible. He walked out the door, hopped down the stairs, and jogged home.

He opened the door, trying to be as careful and silent about it as possible, before tip-toeing into the kitchen and gently setting his bag down.

"And where on God's green earth have _you_ been, Thomas B. Collins?" came Grams' voice from the general vicinity of the hall. He turned; a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar, and put on a face. "Sorry, Grams…A friend was sick and I brought him his assignments…"

"Oh, that Angel boy again?" Grams asked, crossing her arms and entering the kitchen, sitting down at the table.

"No, Angel's…Angel's a girl…" Collins mumbled, ducking his head and pulling out his assignment book. "I've got my homework done, see?" He pushed it towards her, hoping to create a diversion.

"Boy, you must think I'm some sort of idiot," Grams scolded, grabbing the planner and pulling her reading glasses up onto her nose. "Mmm-hmm…good."

"Uh-huh," Collins said, inching towards the door. "Yeah…and they're in my bag, so you can look over them and I'll just be seein' ya!"

He made a mad dash for the stairs, but at Grams' cry of, "Ah-ah! No you don't, Thomas Collins! You march your little butt back in here! We've got something to talk about here, boy!" he stopped and turned, giving his grandmother the classic look of teenaged rebellion, but when she didn't give in, he did and backtracked.

Collins sheepishly made his way back into the kitchen, scratching the back of his neck and sitting down at the table. Immediately, he dropped any semblance of dignity and just groaned out, "What'd I do?!"

Grams gave him a cold, hard, scolding look over the rim of her glasses that told him she knew he knew exactly what he'd done. But when he refused to speak first, she rolled her eyes, walking into the hall and came back with a small stack of magazines, tossing them onto the table. Collins looked down at them and groaned. He couldn't believe this; first Mark and Roger, and now his own grandmother?

"Grams, it's not what it _looks like_!" he cried, grabbing the copies of _Men's Health _and shoving them under his backpack, as though placing them out of sight would prove that they didn't exist. "I…uhm…"

"Calm down, Tom," Grams sighed, sitting down in a chair and rubbing her brow, "I'm not mad. Well," she glanced up, scowling, "I want those magazines out of my house by this time tomorrow. But," she reached across the table, covering his hand with her own warm light brown one and squeezing comfortingly, "I'm not mad at you for who you are, baby."

Collins sighed, looking down and gripping the end of the table with his left hand just to have something to do with his hands and eyes. "Have you told Mom and Dad?"

"No, that's your job," Grams said, patting his hand. "I'm leaving that decision up to you. But, Tom," she paused until her grandson reluctantly met her eyes, "you're their son, no matter what."

Collins nodded, sighing, "Understood…" Before getting up and tugging his backpack onto his shoulder, grabbing the magazines and tossing them in the trash.

"So this Angel…" Grams said, walking over to the trash and removing them. "Don't put 'em in here, no doubt Jess'll find them. Take them outside."

"What about him?" Collins asked, finally admitting defeat. "Angel, I mean."

"Where did you meet him?" Grams asked. "By the way, your mother, father, and sister all went out for pizza when you didn't show up for dinner time. I'll make you something to eat. What do you want?"

"Mac and cheese, I guess," Collins mumbled, pulling a garbage bag out of a cabinet under the sink and tossing the magazines into it. "Met him at the record store a few Fridays ago. And then, asked him out at Wal-Mart Sunday…"

"Good for you," Grams replied. "Take them outside, please."

Collins did as told, taking them to the curb and dropping them into a metal garbage can. He then trudged back inside, walking up to his room and plopped down on his bed, tossing his bag into its typical corner and laying back, staring at the ceiling. He didn't exactly know how to feel. On one had, he felt angry and mortified; what right did she have snooping around in his room? Then, on another, he felt relieved; one more person he didn't have to actually come out to when the time came. He shook his head, rolled over, and groaned, pulling his pillow over his head. This whole thing was turning out to be one never-ending mess.

Eventually, smells of cheesy pasta reached his nostrils even through the cocoon of pillows he'd shoved his head under. A few moments after the scents alerted him of it; Grams confirmed it by calling up that his dinner was ready. He dragged himself up and threw his pillows into the same semi-organized pile they'd been in when he came in and threw off his sweatshirt before slugging downstairs and dropping into a seat, staring resignedly at his placemat.

"By the way, you're grounded," Grams informed, pushing the Mac 'N Cheese in front of him.

"What?! Why?!" Collins cried, starting incredulously at his grandmother.

"You go over to a friend's house after school and stay for three hours without telling anyone?" Grams demanded, shaking her head, "mmm-mm, boy, not in this house! You had your poor mother worried sick!"

"Grams!" Collins cried. "I told you! Angel was sick, I wanted to go over, drop off his assignments, and make sure he wasn't dying or something!"

"Don't kill the messenger," Grams advised, "this is your father's order. For the next week, you're only allowed in this house and to school. Got it?"

"I know how this whole thing works, Grams…" Collins grumbled, digging into his meal savagely. "This isn't fair, though! I'm…" he lowered his voice. "I'm trying to be a _responsible_ boyfriend, but _no_…I'm _obviously_ going off and getting high or having unprotected sex or something if I come home a few hours late! It's not like I sneaked off in the middle of the night, I mean…!"

"But," Grams said loudly, "if you happened to have to stay behind at school for a few hours, and you told me, I don't think that would be against the rules…"

"But I don't do anything after school!" Collins cried. Grams raised her eyebrows at him and he furrowed his, before getting a looked of realization on his face, then a grin. "Okay…Grams, would it be okay if I stayed after school tomorrow to…tutor some freshmen?"

Grams nodded, smiling. "Of course, Tom."

Collins grinned. "Have I ever told you I love you, Grams?"

"Not nearly enough, baby…not nearly enough…"

* * *

Collins' fourth period was study hall, and study hall was in the cafeteria. Mixed in that study hall were all grades, including juniors, so Mark and Mimi joined him and Roger in that period. However, neither of the juniors showed up to study hall and this left Collins and Roger glancing up confusedly towards the door every few moments before being distracted by a conversation and turning back to it.

Finally, Mark came in, rubbing his temples and plopping down next to Roger, slinging his bag off his shoulder. He mumbled something about, "Why she even _thought_ she was fit for coming to school today, I'll _never_ know…"

"Hey, man, what's up?" Roger asked while poking him with a guitar pick he was spinning around in his fingers. "Where's Meems?"

"In the office with Angel," Mark sighed, shaking his head.

"She's here today?" Collins asked.

"Yeah," Mark replied. "But she passed out in gym – Mimi and I had to try and carry her to the nurse. It didn't go well…"

"Why was she in school if she wasn't better?" Collins asked. "If you ask me, it sounds like she's _worse_!"

"I have no idea," Mark groaned. "Oh, here comes Mimi."

Mimi was jogging across the room and plopped down in a chair across from Mark. "Her mom's here; she's taking her home. Apparently, she hadn't taken any Tylenol before she came to school this morning and her fever spiked again…"

"Still doesn't explain why she came in the first place," Mark pointed out, pointing his finger at her.

Mimi sighed, "I think she wanted to prove something that obviously wasn't provable," while glancing over at Collins. He pointed to himself, and she nodded. "She was really eager about that date and she thought for some weird, weird reason," she made a face, which under any other circumstances probably would have told people around that she'd gotten a whiff of something particularly unpleasant-smelling, "that if she asked you to reschedule, you wouldn't want to go through all the trouble or something."

Collins sighed, banging his head on the table. "So, in an indirect way, I'm the reason she KO'd in the middle of gym?"

"Nah, don't beat yourself up over it," Mimi said, shaking her head. "But if you're not going over there after classes today, I'm coming after you, boy. Better believe it."

Collins held up his hands. "Don't worry, girl! I'm going, believe _me_!"

Mimi nodded, satisfied, and began interrogating Mark on what he got for number eight-b from last night's math assignment.

Once again, Collins found himself on the front steps of Angel's house. This time, after knocking on the door, the semi-familiar face of Marcella Schunard answered, and upon seeing him, smiled. "Hello, Collins. You're here to see Angel?"

He nodded, pointing to his backpack. "Got his assignments for him."

"Well, I don't know if he'll be up to homework," Marcella said, leading him into the house and up the stairs, "but I'm sure he'll be happy to see you." She tapped the door delicately with her knuckles. "Angel? Are you awake, Honey?"

There came a soft, "yeah," from the inside and Marcella gestured for Collins to go in. He stepped cautiously in the room, coming upon a bundled Angel, laying on one side with a dehumidifier running next to his bed and a TV turned down to a low roar on the dresser across from his bed. He smiled the biggest smile he could muster at Collins and hoarsely greeted, "Hey!"

Collins shrugged off his backpack, walking over to stand by Angel's bedside, and glanced back at the door to see Marcella duck out, the door clicking behind her. Collins leaned down, kissing Angel's forehead, and he leaned into the touch, letting out a pitiful little sigh and settling back under his covers. "So what up?"

"More assignments," Collins said, taking them out while plopping down onto the bed next to his feet. "But I'm not gonna make you do them right now. How are you?"

Angel shrugged. "Not great."

"I'd noticed," Collins scoffed. He regarded him with a scolding stare, before his face softened and he leaned across, running his fingers through Angel's short, curly hair. "Why did you come to school today, hm?"

"I honestly felt better this morning," Angel groaned at him. "I didn't feel that bad until third hour…And then we were playing dodge ball in gym and I didn't want to get in trouble, so I changed into my gym clothes, and everyone kept pelting me with dodge balls and it hurt so I ran and kinda just…fell…"

Collins tsked, scooting up on the bed and held his arms aloft at his sides. "You want a hug?"

Angel nodded, holding his arms out to him, and sighed in satisfaction when Collins wrapped his long, strong arms around his weak body. He pulled back just enough so that he could stare into Collins' face, and mumbled, "I'm breathing on you."

"So?"

"I'm sick."

Hauling Angel a bit further into his arms, he murmured, "I don't care," before gently touching his lips to his.

It was short, decent, all lips. Angel was sick, after all, and Collins really didn't want whatever this horrible virus was. But it was amazing to both all the same.

"You're going to think I'm pathetic," Angel sighed after several minutes of slightly embarrassed silence, fiddling with Collins' collar. "But that was the first time I've ever kissed a boy."

"Have you kissed a girl?"

"Yeah. Mimi had a crush on me in kindergarten and tackled me. But when she kissed me, I didn't like it so I pushed her off. That's actually how we became friends. And how I found out I was gay. Though I didn't have a name for it then; I just happened to want to kiss my friend Carlos more than I wanted to kiss Mimi."

Collins' chuckle was audible in both sound and feeling for Angel and he mumbled an outraged, "Are you laughing at me, Collins?" while poking his back with as much force as he could put behind it.

"No, no," Collins replied, grinning. "You're just so cute, Angel. I would have thought _someone_ had gotten to you before me."

Angel pulled back, staring incredulously at him. "Where have you been the past…how many years have you lived in Scarsdale? 'Cuz you would have had to have been living under a rock to not see how messed up this town is. I wouldn't be surprised if we were the only two out gay guys in a fifteen-mile radius."

Collins nodded. "You have a point. Didn't stop me, though. I've been there and back."

Angel's eyes widened and quietly, he whispered, "So you're not a…?"

"What?" Collins asked, shaking his head, "no, no, no, girl!" He laughed, "I had my first boyfriend a few years ago. Neither of us were out at the time, so it worked. But he wanted to come out and I kinda didn't so…" he shrugged. "We agreed to disagree and broke up."

Angel settled back against his covers, nodding.

A few moments of silence later, Angel mumbled, "What are we gonna do about Friday?"

"We'll wait and see…if you're better, we'll go out. If you're still feeling for shit, then I'll still come over, bring dinner or something," he shrugged his shoulders, making a face, "we'll figure out something to do. Don't worry, girl."

Angel nodded, twisting his blanket in his hands. Looking up again, he mumbled, "You'd better go. I'm not going to be of much interest to you. I'm kind of about to pass out here."

"Oh, yeah," Collins sighed, realizing it was already four o'clock. "I probably should. I'll be seein' you, okay?" he stood, leaning down and kissing his forehead. Angel giggled.

"You really like to do that, don't you?" Angel asked, as Collins swung his backpack over his head.

"What?"

"Kiss my forehead."

Collins shrugged his shoulders, his hand on the doorknob. "My mom always does that to check our temperature. It always makes me feel better."

Angel nodded. "I can understand that. It…makes me feel better to."

Collins was still grinning when he reached the sidewalk.

**

* * *

End Chapter; TBC

* * *

**

A/N: Was this chapter a bit random? I think I may have had too many things going on. I'm wondering if you guys even really like this story. I mean, I do, but I'm biased, seeing as I'm the author. And wow, I never realized how hard it would be to write without feedback! I don't know what you guys are going to like! I just wanted to remind you all that Mark will be gay in this story, and I feel kinda bad about doing that now because I feel like I'm betraying Jonathon Larson in some way when I change the sexuality of characters around… I dunno…

Thank you to **Marky's Scarfy** for betaing! SHE'S FREAKIN' AWESOME!

Hope you liked this chapter. Next chapter will definitely be the date. I know I promised it to you this chapter, but I got sidetracked and was halfway through with this storyline before I remembered what this chapter was actually supposed to be about. I'll see you all! Love ya!

-Lynn


	4. Chapter 3: Prelude to a Date

A/N: MY SCIENCE TEACHER WANTS ME DEAD! I'M SERIOUS! She's making me type in Times New Roman script. I HATE THAT SCRIPT WITH PASSION!! And then she had us do something weird with the spacing. I'M GONNA MURDER SOMETHING!!

The violent outbursts aside, here I am! Nice to be back, huh? Yes, aren't you glad it's Friday? I am, sweethearts, I am. Song of the week: It's Another Great Day for Drugs, Anthony Rapp. Haha.

Disclaimer: I don't own it, everyone! Jonathon Larson (May he rest in peace) owns all. Besides, Jesse and Wilson are far too yummy for me to be within five yards of them without me fangirling all over the place. I could never actually talk to them.

**

* * *

Chapter 3: Prelude to a Date

* * *

**

Angel took another three days to recover fully. Collins was allowed out that weekend after his father had received the entire story and undid the grounding (But making his curfew nearly two hours earlier for the next two weeks, to make up for it). The Friday on which their date was supposed to take place was spent with several movies, eating broccoli chicken (Angel) and veggie stir fry (Collins) on the couch while Angel's mother was out on the town for the night.

"So, let me get this straight," Collins said, trying not to snort diet coke (yes, he was drinking diet coke; Maureen would be scandalized) out of his nose as he set his carton of veggies and pop bottle on the table. "You're a Guatemalan, Puerto Rican Latino, who has a French last name and loves Chinese food, while at the same time _hating_ nachos?"

Angel giggled, slipping a piece of meat off his chopsticks and into his mouth, nodding a bit. "Yeah, pretty much. I mean, I don't hate Mexican food; I love it, really. But nachos? No, no. The cheese, the _chips…_ it's texmex, not Mexican."

"Traditionalist; I get it," Collins said, grinning.

Angel stuck his tongue out.

"Don't show it to me unless you're gonna do something with it," Collins warned, and Angel nearly shrieked with laughter, setting Collins into peels of laughter as well, with the sheer hilarity of the sounds and faces he was making. "Whoa, girl, breathe."

He slowly inhaled and exhaled, a giggle breaking through and ruining his efforts every once in a while, which sent Collins off again. Soon, they were both on their bellies on the couch, trying not to look at each other, as they knew just the sight of the other's face would send them into even more hysterics.

Finally, breathing under control, Angel turned his head to stare into Collins' eyes; their heads were very close to each other in the middle cushion of the sofa. Collins stared back, and Angel initiated an Eskimo kiss, which Collins returned. They stared into each other's eyes, trying to communicate with only their eyes, before Angel whispered, "I'm gonna sneeze" and quickly sat up, grabbing a tissue. He squeaked, his eyes squeezing shut, before sneezing loudly into the blue tissue. He looked pointedly away while folding the tissue in onto itself and tossing it into the ever-present trash can.

"Sorry," Angel mumbled, settling back into the couch and burrowing into the many blankets – His sneeze had set off a wave of shivers. "Way to break a moment, huh?"

"Nah," Collins said, shaking his head while picking up what was left over of his meal; he was done. He held up Angel's nearly empty carton of chicken, raising a brow. "You done with this?"

There was movement from the cocoon of Angel's blankets, which the Latino had just buried himself under, which Collins took as an affirmative. He gathered everything up and walked into the kitchen, and tossed everything into the trash. He came back in carrying the medication Angel had been taking without fail every six hours for the last three days and shook two into his hand, plunging his hand into the cocoon and pushing all the covers back from Angel's face. "Time for your drugs."

Angel rolled his eyes, sitting up and holding out his hand, onto which Collins dropped the two capsules. He was also handed his bottle of coke, and he forced the large pills down, grimacing at Collins all the while, his eyes obviously stating, "I hate your guts."

"You've gotta take it, baby," Collins told him, kissing his forehead. "Almost no more fever," he murmured, nuzzling his cheek, "you'll be good as new by Monday."

"Great," Angel sighed, stretching across Collins to set his now empty cup on the table. He snuggled into Collins' side and kissed his shoulder before laying his head on it and yawning. "Getting late. My mom's gonna be home soon…"

"Want me gone?" Collins asked, looking away from the end credits of _Titanic_ to look down at his face.

"No," Angel mumbled, tracing nonsense patterns into the denim of Collins' jeans. "Don't go."

"Well, I've gotta leave _sometime_," amusedly, he flicked Angel's nose, making him go slightly cross eyed in an attempt to watch his finger in its progress towards his nose, "but I'll stay a few more minutes."

A few more minutes turned into a few more hours when Collins and Angel fell asleep right after putting another movie in. At ten-thirty, Marcella Schunard walked in the door after a long day of shopping and dinner with her mother in the next town over, and came upon her son curled up on the couch with the vaguely familiar Thomas Collins. She made her way around to the front of the couch, turned off the VCR and TV, and turned back to the cuddling pair, clearing her throat loudly.

She hadn't expected Angel to awake; it took an alarm clock at full volume shrilling into that boy's ear in the mornings to wake him up, but the boy with him jumped perceptively, stiffening and blinking, his eyes focusing, slowly and blearily on her.

"Hello, Collins," Marcella said, once he'd had a sufficient chance to clear his vision and his head.

Collins nodded at her, rubbing his eyes again. "Oh, hey there, Ms. Schunard…Say…how late is it…?"

"About ten-thirty. Speaking of which, mind telling me what you're doing in my house?" asked an exasperated Marcella, crossing her arms and glaring at first Collins, then her own son. "Especially, when my son's _supposed_ to be _sick_…"

"Yeah, she is, believe me," Collins said, pointing to the pile of tissues in the garbage can, the pile of blankets, and the pill bottle. "We were supposed to go someplace tonight, but Angel got sick, and she still wanted to spend tonight together, so I brought over movies and Chinese food, and we sat here and watched them, and Angel fell asleep…"

"Oh," Marcella sighed, uncrossing her arms. "Okay, um…did he take his medicine tonight?"

"Made sure of it," Collins replied, pointing to the empty cup on the table. "That's probably what knocked her out; I gave her the Nyquil, instead of the Dayquil; I hope that's okay?"

Marcella nodded. "Perfect, actually. Thank you."

Collins reached for Angel's shoulder, about to wake him up, when Marcella murmured, "Wait…uhm, don't wake him…her up, okay?"

She received a strange look from Collins, but he pulled his hand back. "Okay…I can carry her to her room, if you want…?"

"No, h-she's been sleeping on the couch." Referring to her son as 'she' was still foreign to Marcella, and she had to roll the word around on her tongue, not liking the feel of it at the moment. "Just…"

With a look of understanding, Collins got up slowly, propping Angel up using one of his arms, then gently guided his body to lay horizontal on the couch. In his unconsciousness, Angel uncurled himself into a new, more comfortable position, and smiled when Collins lifted his head and shoved a pillow under it, mumbling something unintelligible. Collins then pulled up his many blankets, and tucked them around the Latino. He straightened up, glancing at Marcella. She was smiling softy, and there was a vague look of approval in her eyes. "Thank you, for that. Angel is just like a two-year-old when she's sick; once she's up, she won't go back down for a good few hours." She found she didn't mind the unfamiliar pronoun so much that time around.

"You're welcome," Collins replied, glancing back down at Angel. "I'm not gonna be able to come over tomorrow, but tell Angel to keep taking the medication, and that I'll call her, okay?"

Marcella nodded, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. She had the distinct feeling this boy had been caring for her son more than she herself had. "Thank you…for everything, Collins. Work's been incredibly busy, and…let's just say that this was a very bad time for Angel to get sick. I feel bad that I couldn't care for her more, and I'm very glad she had you."

"No problem," Collins said, trailing his fingers again through that soft hair. He leaned down, kissed the still overly warm cheek. "I'm just being a responsible boyfriend. Or, that's how I explain it to my grandmother. I just like bein' around her."

"She's very unique," Marcella agreed, smiling and crossing her arms across her chest. "You're very cute. The two of you, I mean."

Collins grinned, swinging his backpack onto his shoulder. "Thanks. Even though she _is_ the better half of us" he grinned down at the sleeping boy, "I guess I can accept for her. It was nice talking to you again, Ms. Schunard. Tell Angel I said goodbye."

"I will," Marcella replied, leading Collins to the door, "and please, call me Marcella."

She patted his shoulder, and held the door open for him. He smiled widely at her, waved, and walked down the sidewalk, swinging the other strap of his backpack onto his other shoulder. Marcella watched him until he was out of sight, and then walked back into the house.

She had just put on the kettle to boil some water when a beeper sounded from the living room and Marcella sighed, glancing up at the clock; it was indeed eleven o'clock. She walked into the next room and removed the black beeper from her purse, turning it off. She then walked back into the kitchen, rooting around in the cabinets and pulling out a pill tin, mumbling, "AZT break…"

* * *

Back at school on Monday, Collins perched on the picnic table and everyone gathered around him. "So…How was everyone's weekend?"

"Great," Mark replied. "We went to my grandmother's…she baked us cookies and stuff…"

"Boooring…" Maureen trilled. "_I_ got the lead role in the production of _Peter Pan_ for the community center."

They all clapped and she grinned proudly, bowing. "Thank you, thank you, of course you're all gonna come and watch, right?"

"You; dressing up in drag?" Angel asked, grinning. "And playing Peter Pan, no less? Wouldn't miss it," he glanced around at everyone else. "Well, don't look at me, my weekend was miserable; sick, remember?"

Everyone let out a chorus of, "Right…" and turned as one to stare at Roger, who grinned. "I've found a bass player for my band. You know Tony DeComilio? Well, yeah, he's damned good at bass. And Jared Thompson has been the back up guitar player. Now all we need are the drums. Anyone know anyone who plays drums?"

Mark and Mimi glanced over at Angel, and seeing this Roger glanced over at him as well. "You, Angel?"

He shrugged. "Not much. I mean, I've got this old pickle tub in the basement that I bang on every once and a while, but not anything great; I mean, no formal training."

"At this point, I'm desperate for anyone who can string together a beat," Roger insisted, eyes shining. "And I've got a drum set; a pretty crappy one, but it's playable. Come by some time this week and I'll try you out with the band, see what you can come up with."

Angel nodded, dragging his hand through his hair. "Okay, I'll think about it…"

"My weekend was pretty good," Mimi interjected. "My mom took me to the city and we went shopping. I got your birthday present, Mark."

"You didn't have to do that," Mark said, shaking his head. "My birthday isn't for nearly one and a half months, yet."

"Yeah, but it was on sale, and I thought it would be perfect for you," she trilled, grinning. "And, be glad you got anything; last year, I made Angel a card, and that was all he got from me."

"It's true," Angel informed, grinning and leaning his head against his hands.

"I got regrounded because I stayed out too late," Collins informed, scowling. Everyone made sympathetic sounds in the backs of their throats, and Maureen swung an arm around his shoulders, showing her sympathy through what she liked to call a 'half hug'.

The warning bell rang, producing that same annoying sound akin to someone trying to play the drums on a tin can, and everyone sighed in unison, waving and taking off to their first hours. All except for Angel and Collins, who stayed at the table for a few minutes. Angel winced guiltily at him, and mumbled, "Sorry; I'm the reason you're grounded, aren't I?"

"Nah."

Angel gave him a reproving look, and Collins sighed. "Okay, okay, so if I hadn't been with you I would have made my curfew."

"And if I hadn't been using you as a pillow," Angel interjected.

"That too," Collins replied. "But it was my decision, and I don't care. I just hope you don't mind having to wait a week or two for that actual date we've been trying to get around to."

Angel shook his head. "No. I'd wait forever."

It was Collins' turn to look disbelieving. Angel rolled his eyes. "Okay, maybe I'd get fed up with you at some point," he grinned, "but even then I'd just hit you with something and tell you to get your act together."

"I can accept that as the truth," Collins laughed, and Angel kissed his cheek.

"You're too cute," he chirped, before running into the building.

* * *

The officially dubbed 'Date Day' (D-Day) turned out to be the Friday two weeks after that. That night at the Schunard residence was particularly chaotic, at least from the moment Mimi Marquez knocked on the door. Abuela had arrived earlier with a camera, bent on complete documentation, which Angel had protested loudly to for ten minutes before agreeing with a final sigh-and-foot-stomp combination.

"CHICA!"

"CHICA!"

Mimi and Angel squealed at each other and hugged, bouncing around. Abuela snapped a picture, smiling when Angel glared and Mimi's face got blank and dazed as stars flashed in front of her eyes, her having received the full effect of the flash. "Angel…is your grandmother scrap booking over there?"

"Yes," Angel hissed as Abuela picked the Polaroid up from the floor and laid it on the table to develop next to an empty page of the family album. "She'll be documenting tonight, my first date is a momentous occasion." he rolled his eyes. "Come on and quickly…"

They ran up the stairs, Mimi bursting into the room and immediately digging into Angel's closet. "Go; shower! I'll see what I can find. I love your closet, Chica…oh, this is cute!"

Angel giggled, walking into the bathroom and showering quickly. He poked his head out the door, and caught Mimi trying on one of his blouses. She smiled, blushing and giggling coyly when Angel faked outrage and demanded in a deep voice that she take it off. Then chirped that he needed his razor, before pulling his head back into the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Marcella listened to World War Three rage in her son's room, while staring at all the pictures that decorated the mantle in her living room. She picked up one picture; that of a tiny baby in an incubator. Angel had been premature; nearly two months early. She had thought her baby was going to die. The first time she held him, she could cradle him in just her hands he was so tiny. Angel had spent the first month of his life in that incubator, and Marcella thanked every deity she could think of that they'd allowed her baby to live. But she shook her head, her mind flooded with the news she'd received from the doctors not two months after Angel's birth.

She was HIV positive; probably from Angel's father. Marcella had known Angel's father, Antonio, had cheated, but she never thought it would go that far. She had a deadly virus running through her veins now, which could decide to develop into something that would surely kill her any moment of any day. And her baby boy could have it too. There was a twenty-five percent chance, as she hadn't been taking any medication durring her pregnancy.

She set down the picture and picked up another; that of Angel and Mimi at age five, playing in the backyard of the boarding house in which they'd lived in Puerto Rico. Mimi was truly the daughter she never had. She and Angel had been born only five months apart, and since Angel was born late in the year started school in the same year. They'd been friends most of their lives; neither could remember the moment when they'd met, but they knew the moment they did they clicked.

The next picture was another of Angel and Mimi, one that never failed to make Marcella chuckle. It was tiny, younger versions of Angel and Mimi, playing dress-up. Marcella used to teach at their preschool, and had followed her students around with a camera, just waiting for cute or funny moments. This particular moment happened to feature her two favorite subjects pretending to get married. And they were both the bride. They had argued over the pretty white dress until Marcella had given up and brought out another one, which Mimi had latched onto and threw on over her tank top and shorts. Marcella thought it was a cute, harmless game of dress up…little did she know…

She sighed, finally bringing herself to look at the next picture. In it was Angel, two years ago now, standing awkwardly in the backyard in a white skirt, purple tee-shirt, and Halloween wig. It was only about two weeks after he'd come out to her, admitting to being gay and liking to dress in woman's clothing. Marcella had taken him to a therapist; bend on figuring out what was wrong with her son and why he was like he was. He'd been diagnosed with Gender Identity Disorder, and Marcella had immediately blamed herself. She'd never made an effort to do more male-oriented things with him. But one day, he'd sat her down and told her he didn't blame her; that this was who he was; who he wanted to be.

She plopped down on the sofa, still clutching the photograph and sighed. Where had the years gone? Down the drain; that's where. The last sixteen years seemed all but nonexistent, and she wondered how that tiny, tiny baby boy had somehow morphed into a strong, independent young woman without her say so. She bit her lip, and shook her head in an attempt to clear the tears. A few slipped, and dropped onto the photo. She swiped them away angrily.

Marcia Schunard, her mother and Angel's Abuela, came over and ran her fingers through her daughter's long black hair. "What is it, _Mija_?"

Marcella sniffed and shook her head. "It's nothing, Mama…nothing…"

"Are you sure?" Marcia asked, looking down at the photo. "Ah, I see. _Mija,_ you must realize that this is who he is…who he wants to be. There is nothing you did or can do that caused or can change it."

Marcella sighed. "I know; I just…wish she had it easier…"

Marcia took the photo from her and smoothed her hands over the glass. "Look at him…her. She has grown up to be compassionate and kind and…brave. You did nothing wrong. This is just the serving she was given by God."

"I just sometimes wish she'd gotten a different plate," Marcella sighed, tracing her finger over her son's face, so lively and energetic in the photograph. It didn't really do justice in catching all her earthly sparkle. And Marcella had to wonder if that sparkle would forever remain or if something would happen to suck it from her.

"Well, we all have to live the life we are given," Marcia said, setting the picture back down. "And Angel has never needed anyone's sympathy; least of all God's. She will do just fine."

"I'm supposed to get the test results next week," Marcella murmured. "I'm nervous. What if she's positive?"

"Then we tell her," Marcia said, making it sound so simple it was almost painful. "Then we go on; make it up as we go along."

Marcella sniffed, wiped away the last of her tears, and stood. "Well, let's get past tonight, first. I'm sure you'll like Collins, Mama, he's such a sweet boy."

"EEEP! THIS IS _PERFECT_!"

"GREAT! PUT IT DOWN; I NEED TO PUT IT ON, MIMI!"

Marcella glanced over her head and chuckled. "Oh, goodness…"

* * *

"Okay so, this skirt, with this top, and these stockings with your bob wig and black pumps," Mimi finalized, grinning in triumph and standing back to admire her work.

Angel, who sat perched atop the dresser in nothing but a pair of white panties, grinned and hopped down. "Wow! Looks great, Chica! Thanks so much!"

"And _these_," Mimi gasped, flinging something behind her. It landed on Angel's head, blinding him for a few seconds before his fumbling hands managed to claw the silky fabric from his face. He stared at the object in his hand and scowled over at Mimi.

"No!" He cried, tossing the black panties back at her. "Just no! It's the first date, Mimi! He sees those and I might as well have 'easy' stamped across my forehead for the whole world to see! I didn't even know I owned those…"

"Trust me, it's a good thing you have them," Mimi said, shoving them towards him again. "Any girl who ever plans on getting fucked should have a pair of nice, black underwear…It's basically in the rule book, which we obviously need to review sometime in the near future, girl…"

"Mimi!" Angel cried, tugging them back and tossing them back in his drawer. "My, you're vulgar tonight! Honestly!"

Mimi pouted. "Come on, Angel! Believe me, honey; these are so _you _feel sexy. If you feel sexy and confident, you'll _be_ sexy and confident! It's mind over matter, girl!"

Angel bit his lip, staring between Mimi and the panties, before grabbing them and sticking his tongue out. He gestured for Mimi to turn around and she covered her eyes, turning around exaggeratedly and mumbling, "Not like I ain't ever seen you naked…shoot, girl, we used to bathe together…"

Angel snorted. "Yeah, when we were five, and you thought I had a _tail_…"

Roaring with laughter, Mimi replied, "I remember that! And I wanted a tail too! And you always said you didn't like having a tail because I didn't have one! That was hilarious!"

"Ah, did I ever have a change at normality, Mimi?" Angel sighed, pulling the top over his head.

"In the womb, maybe," Mimi snorted, "but once you popped out and saw the world…Nope, not a chance…"

"Okay, turn," Angel sighed, poising in front of Mimi. The Latina turned and squealed.

"Oh, my God, Chica! You look so good!" she cried, hugging her newly feminized best friend. Angel returned the hug eagerly. "He's gonna flip when he sees you! You're practically _orgasmic_, girl!"

Angel blushed hotly, stuttering out a denial. But Mimi wouldn't hear it and dragged her over to the vanity, sitting her down and mumbling to herself, "Now, what can we do with your face…?"

Angel picked up her eye shadow kit and held it up. "We could start here?"

Mimi shrugged, and opened the top, removing the wand and staring at the choices. "More purplish or blackish?"

"Blackish," Angel replied, closing her eyes. "But not too black, just…just shadowy, you know?"

Mimi nodded and swirled the wand in the shadow, brushing it over Angel's eyelids. She then lined her friend's eyes with a few smudges of liner, and then decorated her eyelashes with mascara. She picked up two glosses and Angel opened her eyes, pursing her lips and staring at them. "Uh…the darker one."

Mimi handed it over and Angel coated her lips in a liberal coat before standing up and walking over to the bed, strapping on the shoes. When she stood up, she towered over Mimi, the shoes having added an extra three inches to her height. "Good?"

"Perfect," Mimi agreed, squealing.

The doorbell rang.

Mimi and Angel looked at each other as they heard quiet, casually talking voices from downstairs, then her mother called up, "Angel; hurry up and finish dressing, sweetie! Collins is here!"

Angel rushed over to the vanity, while Mimi squealed once again from behind her and straightened her wig, puffing it gently up to give it as much volume as possible. "You're gorgeous, Ang! Go, go! Knock him dead! Good luck!"

Angel grinned, spinning around to hug Mimi, before opening the door and peaking around the corner, seeing Collins leaning against the hall wall, eyes fixed on the floor a few feet in front of him. He was nervous; how cute! She grinned, came around the corner, and began down the stairs, clutching her purse for dear life.

* * *

Collins leaned against the wall of the hall, glancing into the living room constantly to see that only a minute had passed since the last time he'd looked. He heard Angel's mother and grandmother conversing in their native language in the living room, and could hear vague noises from upstairs. Then, he heard the stairs creaking and his head shot up. He straightened up, his mouth went dry, and he couldn't think of one intelligent thing to say.

Angel was wearing a red blouse and a black skirt. The shirt was long-sleeved and red, with a turtle neck and lacy, clinging, see-through sleeves. Her skirt was a simple deal; black and flowing, hovering a few inches above her knees. Her stockings were patterned; swirls sewed into the black fabric. Her shoes were just as simple as her skirt; shiny and black. Her color had come back and her caramel skin was practically glowing with radiance. Her eyes were smoky and her lips were coated in a shiny, ruby gloss. She was absoloutly beautiful.

Abuela flashed a picture. Angel rolled her eyes, but the smile remained.

"Wow," he said simply, as she hopped the last two stairs and landed in front of him, grinning, her eyes asking, 'well, what do you think, Mr. Collins?' This was the first time he'd seen Angel in drag since that day in the record store, and the full exposure now had him somewhat dumbfounded in all the right ways. "Just…wow. You look…amazing."

Angel giggled and bounced up to him, kissing his cheek and taking in his attire of a sports jacket, a pair of black jeans, and a blue sweater. "You're looking pretty good yourself, Mr. Collins."

Collins grinned, pushing her hair back and kissing her cheek in return, and murmured into her ear, "You're the only one that has succeeded in getting me dressed up, you know that?"

Angel shivered a bit and let out a breathless chuckle, before putting gentle pressure on Collins' chest. He got the message and quickly backed up, his face contorted with apology. She shook her head, jerked her head left, and Collins glanced in that direction, noticing for the first time that Marcia had a camera and had it poised in front of her face.

He chuckled nervously and held up a white carnation, spinning it around in his fingers and raising an eye brow. He saw Angel's eyes widen and he couldn't tell if it was from flattery or something else and he internally winced, hastening in his explanation of the offering. "I brought this for you. I noticed that you had a flower in your wig when we met and I thought you'd like it…"

Angel awed and took it from him, removing the fake flower from her wig and pinning the other in, but not before taking a large whiff of it and grinning further. "Oh, you shouldn't have! I love carnations; they're my favorite!"

Collins smiled and kissed her cheek again, which made her giggle. She pecked his cheek in return and seized his hand, leading him into the living room and gesturing to the other two towering Hispanic women in the room. Tallness really ran in Angel's family, he realized.

"Collins_, mi mama y mi abuela_," Angel introduced. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mimi come down the stairs and give her a thumbs-up before sneaking out the door. She grinned and turned back to the conversation.

"We've met, of course," Marcella said, plopping down on the couch beside her mother. "This is _my_ mother, Angel's grandmother, or Abuela, as we Spanish folks say."

"Marcia Schunard, nice to finally meet you Collins," said Marcia, getting up and shaking Collins' hand. "Our Angel just _will not_ shut up about you!"

"_Abuela_," Angel grumbled, giving her grandmother a dangerous look.

"Oh, hush Angel," Marcella said, patting her son's cheek. "Let your grandmother glow. She hasn't gotten to do this since, well…" she mumbled, "_Desde que conocí tu nada bueno, sucio diablo de un padre_…" *

Angel chuckled, smiling nervously and mumbling through her teeth, _"Mama!_ _Por_ _favor, no hagas esto ahora..._" **

"You're right, _Mijo_, sorry," Marcella mumbled, running her fingers through her son's wig.

"Do you mind?" Marcia asked, holding up her camera for Collins to see. "I'd like to have your picture."

Collins shook his head and smiled at the camera. The flash, like it had for Mimi, made him blink rapidly. "Wow…"

"I think Abuela sets her flash to the 'atomic bomb' setting," Angel informed, watching as her grandmother set that picture to develop.

"Super Nova, actually," Abuela replied. "I find it gives a nice, earthy glow to the subjects."

She slid her earlier pictures into the sleeves of the album. Was one the "before" picture of Angel; sweats and a tee-shirt, glaring with deadly intensity at the camera. The next picture to go in was of Mimi and Angel, hopping around in the doorway. Finally, Angel all dressed up and paused on the stairway, staring past the camera with adoration in her eyes.

Angel blushed at the sight of herself looking like an absolute love-sick puppy and turned to Collins.

"Are you ready to go, baby?" she asked, quietly so her mother wouldn't hear the endearment.

Collins nodded and began to get up, before Marcella cried, "Hold it!" and stepped in front of the outgoing pair. "First; rules!"

Angel groaned and plopped back onto the couch, begging Collins with her eyes not to judge her mother by the psychotics she was most likely about to demonstrate.

"First, I want you, Angel, home by ten," she trailed her eyes over to Collins, "or ten-thirty at the latest. Do you have a car, Collins?"

"Yes, ma'am," Collins replied, "That's what we'll be going around in tonight. It's not great or anything, but it runs and has heat."

"That's all I ask." Marcella nodded. "Second, you are to be a young lady, Angel. Be nice to this boy; he's probably gone through a lot of trouble." Angel rolled her eyes; honestly; what did her mother expect of her? "Now, what are you planning to do?"

"Well, I'm planning on taking Angel out to dinner at the Life Café, then maybe going to the drive-in and watching a movie," Collins said.

Angel grinned, turning to him and excitedly gripping his arm. "Really?! I didn't even know there were any drive-ins still in operation in this town?! Cool!"

"It's not actually in this town," Collins said, still looking at Marcella. "It's in the next town over. Is that okay, Ms. Schunard?"

Angel looked at her mother too, biting her lip and begging her mother with her eyes to let her do this. Marcella looked between the two teen's faces, facial expression mimicking her son's as though begging them not to make her make some agonizing decision. She finally gave up, slumping and seeming to shrink five inches. "Yes, it's fine. If Angel feels she can trust you…in a car…alone and dark…"

"Mama!" Angel cried, looking scandalized, "don't! It's nice that he's doing this; I've never been to a drive in! I trust him."

Marcella looked over at Collins, and the moment their eyes met, Collins got the message loud and clear; if her son arrived back in any different condition than she was at that very moment, she wouldn't hesitate in the hunting down and disposal of him and would successfully hide any evidence that she'd done such a deed. Collins inserted all the sincerity into his gaze as he could and Marcella looked taken aback, before smiling, her eyes warming to the boy sitting before her. She looked over at Angel, smiling, and murmured, "I know, _Mijo_. I trust him too."

Angel grinned and stood, gesturing for Collins to stand too. Abuela asked for another picture, and they squeezed close. Angel mumbled something about, "you'd think it was prom or something…" and Collins returned with, "Or your wedding" which had them both grinning huge, sincere smiles at the camera. Abuela seemed satisfied, and told them to, "Get going or you won't be able to eat before your movie."

Angel didn't need to be told twice and quickly hugged both older women in the room before hopping back over to Collins, taking his hand and leading him out the door.

**

* * *

End Chapter; TBC

* * *

**

A/N: You're all extremely pissed, aren't you? Yeah, don't kill me, please. Next chapter is going to be the actual date. This chapter was just REALLY long as it was, and I didn't want it to be this huge, colossal thing that bored you halfway through. So, to keep you on your toes, please stay tuned everyone! Next Friday will bring the date, I promise, promise, promise! If I don't have it on Friday, you have the absolute right to kill me in my sleep!

La translations:

_* Desde que conocí tu nada bueno, sucio diablo de un padre_… roughly translates into: "Since I met your dirty, no good devil of a father…"  
_** Mami!_ _Por_ _favor, no hagas esto ahora... _Translates into: (again, only a rough translation, because I used a translator site) "Mama! Please, don't do this right now…" at least I think…I can't really remember what exactly I wanted Angel to say there, because I changed it so many times…

Thanks so much, once again, to the lovely Katie (**Marky's Scarfy**) for beta'ing… She's awesome for just putting up with me, guys. I'm insufferable once you've got me.

Reviews are like oxygen; I need them to survive. Please, keep me on life support! Review!

-Lynn


	5. Chapter 4: Date Night

A/N: Okay, uhm…first of all…*Spaz* YOU LIKE ME! YOU REALLY, REALLY LIKE ME! I got like five freakin' reviews last chapter! FIVE! *jumps for joy* THANK YOU SOSOSOSOSOSOSO MUCH!

Psychotics over! Wuzzup, my peeps? Yeah, so here's what you've all been waiting for… (Dun dun dun dun dun dun…) wait for it…

DATE NIGHT!! Yes, it is finally here, after many false calls and dishonored promises; I bring you Angel and Collins' date! Thank you and you're welcome!

Oh, one thing: Song of the week: Supermasive Black Hole - Muse. Because it's an awesome song and I recently read a fic where one character was stripping to it for another. Haha…cookies if you guess who it was (I'm gonna be giving out a lot of cookies…)

Disclaimer: Jonathon Larson (May he rest in peace) Brought this to life. Without him, there would be no RENT and this story would not be shining upon your computer screen today. Therefore, I do not own. Oh, and FYI, that was obvious; I was barely two years old when RENT first came out. Oh, and I don't own Twilight either; that's Stephanie Meyer's…AND I KNOW TWILIGHT DIDN'T EXISIST IN 1989! I PLEAD CREATIVE LICENSE, OKAY?! And I've not seen the movie so sorry if I sound like an idiot describing it, but I've only read the books…

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* * *

Chapter 4: Date Night

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**

"So, what are we going to see at the drive-in theater?" Angel asked from the other side of the dark car as they drove down Angel's street.

"It's a book that they turned into a movie," Collins replied, digging the tickets out of his pocket and handing them to her. "About a bunch of vampires living in this small Washington town and it's through the eyes of this human? I think it's called Midnight or something…"

"Twilight!" Angel cried, waving the tickets around. "Oh, I've wanted to see this. It was this huge best seller…Oh, you're so good to me!" she leaned across the bench seat and kissed his cheek.

Collins chuckled, taking the tickets back and shoving them in his pocket again. "Well, first we're going to dinner at the Life Café. Have you ever been there?"

"Mimi and I have gone there more than once," Angel replied, still grinning across at him. "They have kick ass Fettuccini Alfredo. You're being really sweet, you know that?"

"Ah, but the night has only begun, milady," Collins said as he pulled into the parking lot of The Life Café and killed the ignition. He hopped quickly out and hurried around to the other side of the car, unlocking Angel's door just as she got her seatbelt off. He took her hand and helped her out, before locking the door back up. They walked to the door hand-in-hand and were soon within the warm, social atmosphere of the Life Café.

The server at the podium groaned at the sight of Collins and his face contorted into something slightly evil; his lips were turned down, his brow was knitted, and his eyes narrowed, as though he was trying to do some sort of bodily harm to Collins with only his pupils.

"Matt, my man," Collins said, coming up to lean on the podium, "table for two, por favor."

Death glare still in place, Matt grumbled under his breath as he tugged two menus out from the pile under the top of the podium and led them to a corner in the back, dimmer than most other places and right next to a chilly window. Collins took the seat closet to the window and left the warmer position for Angel. She thanked him with a large smile and smoothed down her skirt as she sat. She looked up at Matt, expecting him to ask their drink orders.

"Hello, I'm Matt, I'll be your server tonight," Matt grumbled monotonously. "Our specials tonight are chicken and dumplings and tofu dogs. Our soup of the day is vegetable barley. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"I'll have a raspberry iced tea, thanks," Angel responded, opening her menu.

"And I will have a root beer, my good sir," Collins added, unfolding his own menu and hiding behind it, "easy on the fizz."

With one last scowl, Matt walked off, mumbling under his breath, "'Easy on the fizz'…what does that even mean? And he says it every time, too…"

Angel giggled, watching Matt leave, and turned back to Collins, tracing her finger over the colorful pattern that was stained into the stone of the table, now in full-on flirt mode. "I get the feeling that you come here often enough too, Mr. Collins."

Collins grinned; it was like a scene right out of one of those seventies movies based in turn-of-the-century New York or Los Angeles. "Your feeling is quite correct, Ms. Dumott Schunard."

"And by the death glare that waiter was giving you," she glanced behind her, her voice quieting as if Matt was standing right behind her. "I'd say you're not the best customer either. What did you do?"

Collins laughed, leaning farther across the table to stare deeper into Angel's sparkling brown eyes. Excitedly, she leaned across the table too, thinking she was getting in on some long-kept secret. "Well, I'm not saying I did do anything because as far as I'm concerned, that guy's hated me since me and Roger walked in the door freshman year, _but_," he grinned. "If he did happen to have a valid reason to hate me, it would probably have something to do with an impromptu protest from Maureen and I up on the bar," he pointed behind Angel.

Remembering Collins' claim to fame (Which didn't have to be much in their school, as things got around and were blown way out of proportion) as being an anarchist/chaos wreaker (and maybe gay, of course) Angel simply asked, "Against what?"

"The absence of vegetarian options on the menu," he replied, and he unfolded his menu, waving it at her, making her think he was just displaying it to her as though she was some idiot who didn't know what a menu was. But then he pointed to a portion of the menu outlined in green and said, "But it worked; look. There's a whole vegetarian section now. Apparently, we planted the seeds."

One item in the section caught Angel's attention and she narrowed her eyes, a look of disgust forming on her face. "Ew…meatless balls?"

Collins shrugged, turning his menu back around. "Tastes the same."

"Yeah, if you close your eyes," Angel remarked, rubbing her tongue on the top of her mouth to stop herself trying to imagine what meatless balls would taste like. She made her decision quickly and folded her menu, clicking her nails upon the tabletop, and humming a song she'd long ago forgotten the lyrics to under her breath.

Matt reappeared a few minutes later, carrying their drinks and a bread basket, and took out his notepad, asking if they were ready to order and being as civil as possible for Angel's sake. Collins glanced across at her, and she nodded. He then raised an eyebrow, and she realized she was being told she could start.

"Oh, uh, I'll have the Fettuccini Alfredo," she said, handing Matt her menu. Matt asked if she wanted chicken or broccoli on that, and she looked across the table at Collins while she said, with a small smile, "Broccoli…I'm going veg tonight." Collins lit up with a dimpled smile.

"Great…another boho…" Matt mumbled under his breath. "Soup or salad?"

"Salad."

"Caser or house?"

"Caser," Angel replied.

"And I will have the veggie burger," Collins said, handing his menu to Matt with a flourish. "With…French fries. I like my potatoes that way."

"Soup or salad?" It was obvious Collins was getting on Matt's nerves; he practically growled that last sentence.

"Soup, my good man," Collins replied. "Your soup-of-the-day; veggie barley, I believe you said?"

"Yup," Matt sighed, flipping his notebook closed, shoving the menus under his arm before marching off towards the kitchen again.

"He…really hates you," Angel said, turning back towards Collins after Matt had disappeared around the corner. "So…you're a vegetarian? Why?"

Collins shrugged. "I've never really liked meat, you know? I mean, I know I need protein, I've gotten the lecture about fifty times, believe me," he rolled his eyes, "but I eat beans and stuff. Like, haven't you ever eaten like a really bad steak or chicken with like, little balls of grizzle in it or something? It's disgusting, right? Who would find that appetizing? So, to spare myself, I stick to veggies."

"Plus it's another way for your to go against the grain," Angel added, swirling her straw around in her cup, listening to the ping of the ice knock against the glass. "That was a very graphic description if I do say so myself, though. I'm eating. Ew."

The large grin she got in response made Angel scowl and look down at the table, trying to rid her mind of thoughts of gross, badly cooked meat.

"Your turn."

Angel looked up, raising one thin eyebrow. "What?"

"Well, I was under the impression we were playing show and tell," Collins said, "minus the show part of the equation, of course." He reached across the table, gripping her hand. "C'mon, girl; I wanna know more about ya; tell me something 'bout yourself."

Angel glanced around the room, as though the answer would be written on a wall somewhere. She shrugged her shoulders, and said, "I've got this birthmark that looks kinda like a snake."

"Where?" Collins asked, looking at both her arms.

"It goes across my bum," Angel replied, reaching behind herself and patting her butt. "The thing's big… The mark I mean, not my butt…It goes up the back of one of my thighs and my left butt cheek…"

Not knowing exactly how to respond to that information, Collins laughed and said, "Okay…uh…I have an extremely annoying little sister with an extremely annoying puppy who likes to eat my boxers as a snack."

"Oh, my cat Chico tore up a pair of my boy shorts once!" Angel cried, grinning. "It's annoying when you've set something out to wear the next day and there are holes in your underwear."

"No, the dog seriously _eats them_," Collins said, demonstrating with a bread role. "I've lost four pairs of boxers in the two months we've had her."

"Okay, you win," Angel said, frowning. "Is that dog completely healthy?"

"Probably not," Collins replied, shrugging. "Your turn again."

"Uh…I sleep walk," Angel stated, smiling proudly.

Collins chuckled. "No kidding! I snore, but that's really my only problem. But you look great; aren't sleep walkers supposed to look pale and tired all the time and stuff?"

"Well, I only do it when I'm really stressed," Angel mumbled around a bite of role. "That's why there are baby gates in the hallway and the doorway to the kitchen; incase I go on a walk about."

"Why the kitchen?"

"I can apparently do a lot of things in my sleep, and there are way too many things in that room for me to hurt myself with. And I think I sometimes eat in my sleep too; I gained four pounds one month and I had no idea why. Your turn."

Collins held up his glass, as though to toast to Angel's, 'special ability' and washed his role down before leaning forward, saying, "Okay, I'll tell you this, but you've gotta promise not to laugh."

Angel raised her brows at him.

"Okay, you can laugh, but don't tell anyone, because I know where you live, and I know where you're ticklish," Collins said, before leaning across the table, beckoning Angel closer until they were close enough to feel each other's breath on their faces. "Okay, so, when I was born, my mom was convinced I was gonna be a girl; she had loads of pink and purple stuff, all ready for her daughter to be born." He rolled his eyes as Angel exploded into giggles. "And when she got me…well, needless to say she was disappointed. And worse yet; she'd blown her budget on girl clothes. So, for the first few months of my life, I was always dressed in pink."

Angel gasped, covering her mouth with her hand and laughing loud enough to draw the attention of a couple at a nearby table. Collins glared at them, and they quickly returned to their food. Angel rested her arms on the table and buried her face in her arms, trying to smother the sounds of her laughter. "Sorry…sorry…that's just so…"

"Yeah, yeah, you thought you were the only drag queen at the table," he snapped his fingers at her. "Well think _again_, bitch! And me and my prada pumps could run all over yo' ass, girl!"

Angel shook her head, nearly choking on her own air. "Stop, stop…can't take anymore! You win!"

Matt appeared again, staring at Collins with something akin to fright, which told both occupants of the table that he'd heard at least the tail end of that little rant, and dropped their side dishes down before them, before walking off again.

They glanced back at each other, and quickly dissolved back into laughter.

"Did she ever put you in a dress?" Angel inquired.

"No," Collins replied, shaking his head. "But people did keep coming up to her and telling her what a cute baby _girl_ she had, and after a while she stopped correcting them…"

"Ooh, I bet that's what they blame your gayness on," Angel said, pointing her fork at him. Collins looked back down into his soup, mumbling, "Yeah…bet it is, too…"

"What's with the cold shoulder all of a sudden?" Angel asked, frowning. Collins stirred his soup, refusing to look up at her, and suddenly it came to her. "You're still not out to them, are you?"

Collins shook his head, mumbling, "Mark, Roger, and Joanne are the only ones who actually know for sure. Except for you, of course…My grandma kinda found out herself…Oh, and Mimi I guess…"

"Oh…" Angel ate a bite of salad and looked back up, saying, "I'm near-sighted; I wear contacts."

Collins looked up at her, obviously wondering what she would look like with glasses on. She sighed, reaching into her purse and pulling out her glasses case, slipping them on. Collins now kept staring at her, but for a completely different reason.

"Retract tongue into head," Angel advised, taking them off and placing them back in their case. "It's not a good look for you."

Collins exaggeratedly lifted up his jaw and shoved his spoon into his mouth. "Wow, girl…Those make you look…really, really cute."

"Thanks," Angel mumbled, "never thought of that."

He nodded, and started up on another story, that of when he was seven and he was convinced that if he rode his bike fast enough then jumped off of it, he could fly.

Matt eventually arrived back with their entrées and they ate, still chattering happily at each other. Collins gave Angel a few fries and Angel fed Collins a bit of her pasta. The couple at the table next to them continued to glare until they left.

The bill was paid and they remained to chat for a few moments, before Collins glanced at the clock and saw that they had twenty minutes to get to the theater. His eyes bugged and he quickly ended what he was saying, taking one last sip of his drink.

"We gotta get goin' baby," Collins said, standing and gesturing to Angel to stand. She placed her napkin on her empty plate and stood, again smoothing down her skirt tightly and clinching it close to her thighs. He furrow his brows, wondering what she was hiding under that skirt of her's, before just ignoring that he'd ever noticed anything and grabbed her hand, throwing a tip on the table.

* * *

They were actually ahead of the bulk of the crowd and got a very good parking place. Angel walked to the concession stand and got some candy (She had a sweet tooth and they didn't have time for dessert) while Collins fiddled with the radio, trying to get it onto the right station. Angel arrived back at the car just as Collins banged on the radio. The signal cleared up and the car was suddenly flooded with the sounds of the previews.

"Well, that was an excellent lesson on how to discipline a radio," Angel remarked through the open window as she climbed back into the car, "for you, junior caramels," she handed him the carton, "and malted milk balls for me." Wasting no time, she opened the carton and shook a few into her palm, popping them into her mouth. She slid across the bench seat and burrowed into his side, propping her feet up on the dashboard.

"So what's this movie about?" Collins asked around the handful of chocolates he'd just shoved in his mouth. "You know more about it than me; I just picked it because I heard some girls giggling about it and I thought you'd like it."

Angel grinned. "Well, as much as I don't really like being compared to a bunch of giggle nuts," she frowned playfully. "I appreciate that you're thinking about me. The movie is about Bella Swan, and she's just moved from Phoenix to this little town in Washington called Forks to live with her dad. And while she's there, she meets Edward, who turns out to be a vampire. And he lives with all these other completely gorgeous vampires in this big house in the middle of the woods and it was just a great book and hopefully the movie will be good, too. I'm not gonna tell you more because that'll spoil it for you. But don't hurt me if I squeal, okay?

Collins chuckled, brushing one of his knuckles over her cheek and murmuring, "I could never hurt you. You know that, right? That I'd never hurt you?"

She nodded against his shoulder. "Yeah. I know."

The previews suddenly went silent and they looked towards the screen to see the opening credits running across it. They quieted as the picture faded in.

Half-way through the movie Angel was scared by something and she squeaked, jumping a foot in the air and knocking into Collins. She looked up at Collins and saw him grinning at her. She stuck her tongue out and his grin quieted to a smile. She smiled, too, and leaned in, touching her lips gently to his.

It was meant to be short. But that plan flew out the window when a hand trailed to her waist and his tongue slithered out to swipe along her bottom lip. She parted her lips, her eyes fluttered closed, and she tangled her fingers in his hair as their tongues danced slowly. He tasted like chocolate and caramel and something unique only to him, and she deepened it further, hungry for more of his flavor.

Somehow, she managed to straddle him and only pulled away when she felt his hand trailing along her thigh, a little too high for her comfort. She reached down to grip his hand and bring it back up to rest at her waist. She shook her head, scolding him gently with her eyes. "Not there, baby."

Collins winced apologetically, taking his other hand away completely. "Sorry…I just got carried away…"

"It's okay," Angel replied, nuzzling his cheek. "I'm just…you're alright with taking it slow, right?"

"Completely," he replied. "I wasn't planning on just…jumping into the whole thing. We'll take it as slow as you want."

"That's very slow, I hope you know," she said, glancing into his eyes uncertainly. "This is as far as I'm going for a while; I'm not ready for anything yet."

"I'd wait forever," he replied. He face screwed up and he said, "You know, that's the corniest thing I've ever said…"

"It was pretty corny," Angel agreed.

"Hey…I think someone's attacking someone again," Collins said, poking her and pointing to the screen.

Angel giggled, getting off of him and curling back into his side. "Don't worry, everything works out in the end…oops, that was a spoiler, wasn't it?"

The movie ended and Angel clapped enthusiastically as though the actors could hear her. She immediately began bubbling about how great the movie had been while turning the overhead light on so she could see her surroundings. She snorted, seeing that it was a mess of empty soda cups and candy cartons.

"That was…interesting" Collins remarked as Angel ducked under the dashboard on the passenger side and picked up her pop cup. "I think Maureen was reading those books a while back. She went gaga over Edward, now I think about it. Are we sure she's a lesbian?

"Trust me, everyone goes gaga for Edward," Angel mumbled from where she was gathering up the empty candy cartons. "He's just that sexy. Mimi goes crazy for him too. I lent her my books when I was done with them. We're gonna have to buy this for her on tape for her birthday, I hope you know."

"When's her birthday?" Collins asked, wondering if the movie would even be out by that time.

"May," Angel replied, before tugging open the door and walking into the dark night to throw out the trash.

Collins turned the radio back to a music station, turned up the heat, and closed up the windows; the car had gotten a bit chilly. He nervously tapped his knee until Angel reappeared; once again tugging her skirt against her butt as she sat and Collins knew he hadn't imagined it this time.

"Are you hiding something under that skirt of your's or something?" he asked as he put the car in drive.

Who knew Angel could turn that color of red?

"No," Angel mumbled, looking down at said skirt. "I just don't like people seeing up my skirts, is all."

"Ah," Collins replied.

"Well, I don't wanna look slutty in front of you," Angel amended, knowing that she had no reservations about bending down to pick something up, even when in a short skirt. "And Mimi literally shoved me into this pair of black panties, so…"

Raucous laughter followed this admission, and Collins said, "Oh, gee, Angel! I'm not gonna look up your skirt, girl! Feel comfortable in your own skin, at least."

"I just…" giggling broke through as she realized how ridicules her behavior was. "Okay, you win. You're doing a lot of winning tonight. What with you winning, what, three times compared to my none? I want to win something…"

"How about best dressed?" Collins asked, eyes straying from the road to take in her attire once again. "You're…you're beautiful, tonight. I mean, I'm used to seeing you in…"

"Boy clothes," she supplied, shrugging her shoulders. "It must be weird to have a boyfriend who you can technically call your girlfriend, huh?"

"Angel, baby, stop with the self-doubt, okay?" Collins asked, reaching over and rubbing her knee. "You're perfect. I wouldn't change anything about you. And like I said at Wal-Mart, I think you're completely adorable either way."

"What do you like me better in?" Angel asked. "Drag or normal clothes?"

Collins thought for a few seconds, before saying, "It's pretty much equal, but if I had, had, had to pick one," he bit his lip, "I'd probably pick your normal clothes."

"Oh?" Angel asked, looking down at her skirt and blouse and wondering if her attire tonight was a bad choice.

"Only a bit more," he stressed. "But that's just 'cuz I love your natural hair and, well, I'm gay."

Angel giggled. "I get it. It's kind of weird to suddenly be attracted to a girl."

"It's gonna take some getting used to, but I don't mind it."

Angel smiled hugely.

* * *

Pulling up to Angel's house, Collins looked over at her and met her eyes. She smiled, and he got out, again coming around to open her door for her and guiding her over the high curb when she almost tripped after forgetting it was there. She clung onto him and let him lead her to her stoop, giggling a bit.

Once having reached the stoop, Collins rubbed her shoulders, mumbling, "It's cold out here. You should go inside, baby; I don't want you to get sick again."

They stared into each other's eyes, and Angel murmured, "Am I the only who really doesn't want tonight to end?"

"No," Collins replied, before leaning in and taking her lips in a gentle kiss. He pulled back and kissed her all over her face; her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, and her lips several more times, before stepping away. "But I've really gotta go, and your mom's gonna flip if you come home five seconds past your curfew."

"I know," Angel sighed, turning her body towards the door. "I'll see you, okay?"

"Definitely," he replied, before heading down the steps, and getting back into his car.

Angel stepped into the house and found it quiet and dark; her mother must have been sleeping or in her den. She leaned against the door and looked over at Chico where the cat was staring uninterestedly at her from atop the mantle and grinned. "Oh, Chico…I think I'm falling in love…"

Chico meowed and hopped down from the mantle, slinking out of the atmosphere; it was too _happy_ for him.

**

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End Chapter; TBC

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A/N: Well, I hope this was satisfactory. I'm not crazy about it, but I can't really put my finger on why. I guess it was good enough, huh? Maybe it was just its shortness. But I didn't want to make it any longer for fear that I would start to repeat myself and it would start to drone on after a while. I like to keep things exciting.

Next chapter will be migrating away from Angel/Collins a bit, and will be kind of Angel-centric. I think their relationship is pretty much stable right now; there's not a whole lot I can do with it at this point in time, so I'm going to be going on to some other things for the next few chapters. The next few chapters will be the foundations of Mimi/Roger and maybe even a little MoJo because you know I just love those two! Oh, and Mark will also be together with an OMC, probably…I'm sorry if you don't like!

Gracias to my beta **Marky's Scarfy**…AKA my one fan. :D *Big hugs*

And yes, Chico the cat will be the antagonist in this story. Haha. Oh, and can we just pretend for my sake that there's a Life Café in Scarsdale? Thank you. Let's say there are a couple of locations and one is in the East Village and the other is in Scarsdale! CREATIVE LICENSE, REMEMBER PEOPLE?!

-Lynn


	6. Chapter 5: Strike to the Heart

A/N: Uh, so…There's been some really messed up things going on here in Michigan. A few weeks ago, four teens were killed in a car accident caused by a drunk driver slamming into their car. Four innocent people. So, I guess it's public service announcement time; do not drink and drive. If you are drunk, please, please, please don't drive. Stay at a friend's house or ask said friend to drive you home if you're someplace you can't stay. Or call someone. Don't drive yourself!

My heart goes out to the four families who lost their children or siblings or grandchildren and they have my condolences. May you see your way through this tragedy. :(

Song of the Week: Arms of an Angel – Sarah McLaughlin. I swear it has nothing to do with Angel! *Nose grows five feet long* FINEFINEFINE! It might have something to do with Angel…

Disclaimer: Jonathon Larson (May he rest in peace) owns the whole thing. I take no credit whatsoever. Oh, except Jared and Tony; I own those two. They belong to my sister and I. We conceived them and birthed them and bottle fed them, and watched them grow to all their current glory! Okay, well, not really but you get the idea…

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Chapter 5: Strike to the Heart

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**

"_So, Chica, you've gotta tell me how it went_!" Mimi cried from the other end of the line. It was ten forty-five and both were technically supposed to be asleep, but it was the weekend, so Marcella just asked that Angel get in bed some time before one o'clock in the morning, and Mimi had her own phone line in her room, so her mother didn't need to know she was even up.

"Okay, okay, so," Angel mumbled, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he unzipped his skirt and shimmied out of it, sliding it down his hips and letting it pool around his feet. "He showed up and he was really sweet and everything. He gave me a carnation! And he _knew _I liked to have flowers in my hair, so that has to mean he pays attention to me, which I love about him. Hold on, Chica, I need to take my shirt off…"

He set the phone down and set it to speaker phone, saying, "Okay, Meems, you're on speaker so keep it down."

"_So where did you go_?" Mimi's voice filled the small space and bounced off the wooden floors. Angel winced from behind his shirt as the peace and quiet of the house was pierced by his best friend's excited squeaks. "_Dinner? A Movie? A walk in the park – Oh, that's romantic…_"

"The first two," Angel replied, slipping off his underwear and stockings and gathering them up into a tight ball, tossing them in his hamper. He walked over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. "Dinner, a movie…at the drive-in theater, which I didn't think was even working anymore. Oh, Meems, he took me to see _Twilight_…"

Mimi gave a little squeal and clapped her hands. "_Oh my God! He _does_ listen, doesn't he?! He even knew what your favorite book is_!"

"Well, actually he heard the giggle nuts talking about it and thought I might like it," Angel said, making bit of a face though he knew Mimi had no chance of seeing it. "But it's the thought that counts. I mean, at least he was thinking about me…right?"

"_Completely_," Mimi agreed. "_What about dinner? Where did you go?_"

"The Life Café," Angel replied while slipping a pajama top over his head. He also slid on a pair of pajama boxers and bounced onto his bed, putting the phone back to his ear. "Nothing fancy but definitely not McDonald's either. And he bought – I didn't have to pay a dime! Did you know he's a vegetarian? He is…"

"_Any juicy details?_" Mimi asked, with an implied eyebrow wiggle which had Angel rolling his eyes. "_C'mon, Angel…two teens, alone, in a car…don't even get that virginal routine with me, girl! I know you weren't any _angel_…_"

"Are we talking about you or me here, Meems?" Angel asked, raising his eyebrows. "And if you _must know,_" he could almost envision Mimi sitting at attention "there was a _kiss_…but it didn't get too far beyond that, believe me, I stopped it…"

"_Ooh,_" Mimi trilled. "_So he wanted it to go further? What did he do? Put his hand up your skirt?_"

"I…"

"_He _did!" Mimi crowed. "_He_ _did! Oh, I bet you chewed him _out_ girl, huh_?"

"Hey," Angel cried, his voice thick and loud with reprimand. "I got pretty into it too. I was…all up on him…"

"_Ooh…Angel gettin' down and dirt-ay_…" Mimi sang. "_So you stopped it_?

"Yes," Angel sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I'm just not ready for that yet, Mimi… Innocence is something that you only have for a short while and I want to have mine as long as possible…And I want to find the right person to do it with. I don't want it to be something like, 'Oh, well, we've got each other now, so let's just get this over with…' you know? Now could we please navigate away from this subject? Thank you."

The next hour was spent dissecting every detail of Angel's date. Then Mimi's mother wised up to the fact that her daughter wasn't asleep and yelled that she had better get in bed, which ended their conversation abruptly. Mimi promised to see Angel on Monday if not over the weekend, and Angel vowed to see her then, before hanging up and bouncing back onto his bed. He looked about the dimly lit room and sat up, looking towards his nightstand upon which the white flower sat.

He leaned over and picked it up, laying back down and closing his eyes, smelling it and running it slowly across his face; playing it over his cheeks, under his nose, and along his lips. He trailed it down his neck, across his collar bone, all the while breathing in the sweet scent of it. He brought it back to his lips, kissing it, and for a second, the soft peddles didn't belong to a plant; they were the gentle lips of a new love…

* * *

On Saturday, Angel walked down the block to Roger's house for his audition with the band. It had taken two weeks to finally fix a date when everyone could be there, as things kept coming up, but that Monday Roger had come up to him and told him they'd decided on the following Saturday. He decided to keep it casual; no drag around these unfamiliar people just yet. Under his arm he held his pickle tub and drumsticks and was lazily knocking one of the sticks against his thigh as he walked, humming to himself another one of those meaningless tunes.

Roger appeared at the third knock and grinned, waving at him. "Hey, Angel! Everyone's already here; you're a bit late, but that's okay. We're gonna eat lunch first anyway. Grilled cheese and Campbell's tomato okay with you?"

Angel nodded and brushed past Roger into the house. It was nice; pretty much the same as his, only with different carpeting and the room on the right appeared to be the dinning room instead of the living room. Angel realized that would make the archway behind the staircase the living room. This was also the room from which a large amount of raucous noise was coming from, some of which Angel recognized as yelling in some foreign language. He looked back towards Roger, who rolled his eyes.

"That's Tony and Jared," Roger said, leading the way into the room. "They're always after each other about something; don't worry; they're not hurting each other. Yet."

They walked into the room and found two boys zipping around and vaulting over the furniture. The one who looked to be the pursuer was short (probably normal-height, but compared to the other boy quite petite) and lean. His hair was wavy and black and was constantly blowing in his face as he ran. His skin was an olive-color, and the look was completed with black wire-frame glasses and an evil gleam in his bespectacled eyes. He looked quite manic.

The other was very tall (Angel wouldn't hesitate to compare the stranger's height to that of Collins) and very pale. There was a mess of freckles all up and down his arms and across his face and when he grinned back at his pursuer, green braces were revealed. His hair was dirty blond and nearly as kinky as Mimi's, reaching to just below his ears. His pants were falling down and his shirt was hanging off him, and as they watched, he jumped over a chair and his shoes spun off his feet.

"Jared! Come back here! I'm gonna kill you!" was the short one's method of coaxing as he ran, hopped, and flew after the other.

"Guys!" Roger cried, clapping his hands together. The blond was distracted by the shout from crawling over the back of the sofa and ended up instead taking a dive for the floor. The other one ran into the footrest of an easy chair and toppled over it, landing on his back with his legs hiked up on the cushioned platform. "Stop your rumble for five minutes to meet the may-be drummer, would you?"

The brunet sprung up and came to stand next to Roger, looking Angel over. "Hi. I think I know you from someplace. You're Angelo Dumott Schunard, right?"

"Yeah, but I go by Angel," Angel replied, shaking his hand. "And I'm sorry that I don't know you, but…I've never been great with names…"

"Nah, it's okay," he insisted, walking over to the sofa to pull the blond one out from behind it. "I only know you from track. You did great last year, being a sophomore and all. I'm Tony DeComilio." He looked down at the boy which he held in his grasp. "And this dolt is Jared Thomson. Say hi, Jared."

"Hi Jared," Jared replied, ripping his tee-shirt from Tony's grasp and lifting himself up off the floor in one fluid movement; for a tall person, he was very graceful. "So you're our prospective drummer, huh?" he eyed Angel's supplies. "What's with the pickle tub?"

Angel looked down at it and shrugged. "I just thought I'd show you what I can do with my usual equipment, and then I can try and improvise with the drum set."

Jared nodded, seeming to be pleased by this thought, and plopped down on the sofa, Tony following him. Their fight seemed to be long forgotten as Jared turned on the television and they were both enraptured in no time.

"So, where are you from?" Angel asked, sitting across from them on one of the easy chairs. Roger sat next to him and was soon sucked into the world of ESPN as well. "I noticed your accent."

"I'm Italian," Tony replied, glancing away from the sports channel. "I was born in New York, though. My mom doesn't speak English so I was taught it by an aunt on my step-dad's side. English is actually my second language."

"Mine too," Angel replied. "I'm Guatemalan and Puerto Rican; I speak Spanish. And don't ask about my last name; it's a long story which I don't feel like telling right now."

Tony nodded, already interested in the sports again. Jared glanced at him from the corner of his eyes and said, "Don't worry about it; Tony won't ask you about your name if you don't ask him about his."

"What's his full name?" Angel asked, now realizing that Tony was short for something.

"Antonella Marion," Jared replied, and grinned when Tony glared daggers at him. "His mom was _reeeeaaaally_ drugged up… I think she mistook 'it's a boy!' for 'it's a girl!'."

"That or his bits were so small she just didn't see them," Roger added, grinning. Tony threw something across the room, and when it fell into Angel's lap after conking Roger it was revealed to be a shoe. Roger let out a sound of protest as Tony wound up to throw the other at Jared, but before he could toss it there was a call from the kitchen.

"Boys! Come eat your lunch!"

They got up and filed into the dinning room to find four plates, all topped with one grilled cheese sandwich (Cut into fourths, like a four-year-old would eat it) and a bowl of tomato soup. They all chose chairs (Tony next to Jared on one side of the table and Angel and Roger on the other) and Mrs. Davis entered with her own plate a few minutes later, sitting at the head of the table. Angel smiled at her, mumbling thanks, before looking back down towards his soup. He was never as confident in his normal clothes as he was in drag.

"This is good, Mom," Roger said, munching on his sandwich. Mrs. Davis chuckled at her son, reaching over and ruffling his hair.

"Thank you, Roger, but I can't take the credit," she said. "The only thing I did was melt the cheese onto the bread and grill them. Oh, and boil the soup."

Roger shrugged, slurping a bit more of his soup into his mouth and dunking one of his quarters of grilled cheese into the soup. Oh, so that's why they were cut the way they were; easy dunking.

"So, you're the new drummer?" Mrs. Davis asked, looking across at Angel. He nodded, munching off the point of one of his quarters of sandwich. "Angel, I believe Roger said your name was? Nice to meet you; I'm Caroline Davis."

"Nice to meet you too, Ma'am," Angel replied, smiling. "And thank you for lunch. It's very good, even if it isn't exactly homemade."

Caroline thanked him for his courtesy and continued eating; glancing over to where Jared was just finishing his lunch and Tony had barely nibbled on his. "Jared, dear, do you want more?"

"Nah, he can have some of mine," Tony said, placing two quarters on his plate and poured a generous amount of his soup into his bowl. Jared grinned and thanked his best friend before continuing to chow down.

"Something wrong, hun?" Caroline asked, looking worried at Tony's lack of appetite.

"Tony's always eaten like a bird, Mom, you know that," Roger informed.

Jared was once again first to finish, then Tony. Roger and Angel finished at nearly the same time and Caroline swept all their dishes away, refusing any offers to help from any of the boys, and instead ushering them into the garage, her only command being, "Try to keep it down, guys. I'll be trying to take a nap."

"Okay, Angel, let's see what you've got," Roger said, walking over to a drum set pushed against the wall. "Well, maybe I should tell you who everyone is. Jared plays back-up guitar, and Tony's the bassist. I'm main guitar and main vocals, and Jared is our keyboardist as well, and Tony does backup vocals. Now let's get this audition on. However you wanna do it."

Angel nodded and dragged the stool from the drum set to the center of the room, straddling it and looking up at the three boys who had gathered onto the old beaten up couch (plaid with an uncanny resemblance to Roger's pants) and were staring at him expectantly. "Ready?"

"When you are," Roger prompted, gesturing to him.

Angel took a deep breath and raised his drumsticks, staring with a slow beat that slowly evolved. He began picking the rim up and thumping it back down with his feet, and used one drumstick to pound upon the ground while the other continued to beat an irregular rhythm against the top of the can. He finished on a bang from all three beats and looked up towards them, raising his brow. "So… Am I in?"

They all sat and stared him for several seconds and he was beginning to feel uneasy when Jared cried, "Whew, dude! You can sure bang, that's for sure! Hells yeah, you're in!"

Tony looked to Roger, the technical band leader, for confirmation of this assertion and found him nodding frantically. "If you can replicate that with the set, then oh yeah, we're golden."

Angel grinned, looking down at his pickle tub and clicking his sticks together. "Great. So what's our name?"

All three boys looked at each other with confused looks, and Roger finally mumbled, "Good question…guys, what _is_ our name?"

Jared continued to look at Roger for an answer while Tony looked about the room as though the answer would suddenly jump out at him, naked, and do the hula before slapping him in the face. Needless to say, neither person nor idea did this to him, and they were left staring confusedly at each other for several minutes before Roger sighed, "Okay, let's think about this. We want something unique, so…"

"How about the Double-Shirt System?" Tony suggested, glancing around at everyone and seeing they all had on a short-sleeved tee-shirt over a long-sleeved tee-shirt. Angel wrinkled his nose, and Jared vocalized his refusal, crying out, "Naw! That's gay!"

Angel looked up, raising a brow, and Jared mumbled, "I mean, you know…not gay as in offensive-gay, gay as in stupid-gay…"

"I think I'd still prefer it if you didn't use that around me," Angel said, crossing his legs and arms. "I find it offensive either way. How about Eclipse?" he chose his favorite book from his favorite series, noticing that the patterns on the drum set were of twinkling stars.

Roger's eyes narrowed at the name and he seemed to be in serious thought about it, before making a face and holding up his hand, tipping it from side to side. "Maybe…not really that original, you know? But it's something to consider if we can't figure out anything different."

"Well…what about 'Five Miles from NYC'?" Jared suggested, and Roger once again thought about it before grinning.

"It could work," he agreed, leaning back and crossing his arms proudly as though he'd been the one to come up with it. "It could work. I like it."

"We're more like thirty miles," Angel pointed out, but Roger mumbled, "Who cares?" and everyone else agreed, so he sat back and shut up, aware that he was still very much the third wheel at this point.

"Well, let's see what we can do with what we've got," Roger said, walking over to a box in the corner. He pulled several beaten-up notebooks out of the box. "I've got all my songs I've written in here. Let's go through it and see what we can do with it, then we'll develop music for it. Everyone good with that plan?"

They all mumbled their agreement and migrated across the room to gather around Roger. The next three hours were spent looking over songs and sorting through them, until they were left with about ten songs, which they all agreed would start having music applied to them at the next meeting. They all departed, until it was only Roger and Angel left; Roger lounging on the couch and Angel absently tapping his drumsticks against one of the snare drums from the set, looking about one million miles away from that garage in the middle of suburbia.

"Hey, Ang," Roger called quietly. The transvestite looked up, questioning a quiet 'what?' and ceasing his tapping.

"Uhm…I just wanted to say that Tony and Jared are really cool with pretty much anything you can throw at them, and there's really nothing my mom hasn't seen before – she's a nurse…So, uh…just be comfortable around them, okay? Don't let anything they say get to you; they can be inconsiderate sometimes, but they're really great guys."

Realizing what Roger was trying to say, Angel simply nodded and stared down at his knees. Though not in the best way, Roger had told him it was okay to act like himself around Jared, Tony, and his mother. "Thanks Roger…I'll keep that in mind."

"And don't make a big deal out of it," Roger added. "They won't feel uncomfortable unless you're uncomfortable."

After a few more moments spent simply staring into space, Angel nodded and got up from the stool, sticking his drum sticks in his pickle tub and shoving the whole load under his arm. "Thanks for everything Roger. And tell your mom thanks for lunch. Same time next Saturday, right?"

"If nothing comes up," Roger replied, standing up as well. He walked over to Angel and embraced him shortly and slightly awkwardly, patting his back before pressing the button on the garage wall, setting the gears that controlled the door in motion. Angel waved and smiled, before ducking out of the garage and down the street.

He didn't expect anyone to be home by this time; his mother didn't get home until seven on a good night and it was only four-thirty. But he was proven wrong when his mother's blue Ford Taurus came into view and he frowned, wondering if she was sick. He checked the mail (The flag was down but half the time the mail man forgot to put it up), found none, and unlocked the door, setting his tub and sticks down and calling into the house, "Mama? Abuela?"

"I-in the living room, sweetheart," came the quivering voice of his mother, and he followed the sound of her distressed voice. He walked into the room and frowned when he saw not only his mother and grandmother sitting in the room, but Mark, Mimi, and Collins too. He let a humorless chuckle pass his lips as he saw all their solemn looks.

"What is this, guys?" he asked, blinking at them confusedly, "an intervention or something? What's the matter?"

His mother's mouth started to quiver and she tightened her hold on Marcia.

"Mama?" he asked, frowning at her. "What's wrong? You look like someone died?"

At that moment, Marcella broke out crying.

* * *

**One hour earlier…**

Forehead and temples aching, Marcella stepped slowly out of her car and closed the door as quietly as possible, knowing that unnecessary noise would just aggravate her headache more and the last thing she needed was a full-blown migraine. She wasn't used to having to go to work on the weekends, but professional development for the teachers had been scheduled for today which meant five hours in a stuffy meeting room with seventeen other elementary teachers from her district, being lectured on how to be more efficient at their jobs. The only things she desired at that moment were her slippers, and a dark room with a strong cup of tea and maybe that recording of calming beach sounds her mother had gifted her with for her last birthday.

She was just about to go in the house when she saw the flag on the mailbox standing at attention and figured she should check it. She groaned, walking back down the walk to the curb and taking out the stack of mail, removing a handful of envelopes and sorting through them as she walked up the walk and entered the blissfully quiet house. She mumbled under her breath as she came across each letter; "Bill, bill…letter from cousin David; gotta give that to Angel, bill…progress report; uh-oh…" she laughed at herself, knowing she had nothing to worry about; Angel had never disappointed her, whether it be academically or morally. "And…a letter from White Plains Hospital…"

She stopped, dropping everything else onto the coffee table. She stared at the innocent white envelope as though it was the greatest adversary and evil she'd ever encountered and her breathing starting jumping, taking all her effort to just force it through her lungs. She plopped down on the sofa, turning the envelope over with shaking hands and sliding one finger under the flap. She took the single sheet of paper out and started at the folded paper, biting her lip.

One flap was unfolded but it took nearly five minutes for her to gain enough courage to flip up the second flap.

Her face contorted in horror. A shrill, agonizing scream ripped from her throat and she collapsed against the sofa, sobbing and screaming into a throw pillow. The paper was either flung or dropped from her hand, and it fluttered to the ground. Printed upon it was a complicated, color-coded chart. But Marcella comprehended none of it; the only thing she understood were the first few lines over the top of the page:

**Name:** Dumott Schunard, Angelo J.  
**Date of birth: **December 2, 1973  
**Blood Type:** B+  
**Results for HIV blood test: **Positive

* * *

"Mama?!" Angel cried in horror, running to her side and kneeling beside her. "_Mamá, por favor, ¿qué hay de malo? Usted está asustando a mí!_"*

Marcella hugged Angel's head to her breast, murmuring into his hair, "_¡Ay, mi bebé, me siento tanto…_" over and over until she was nearly screeching. **

"Marcella," Abuela said, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's arm. "Sweetheart, you are going to work both yourself and your son into a heart attack. Please, tell him."

Marcella pulled back and reached onto the coffee table, shakily handing Angel a paper. Angel glanced between the folded paper and his mother before unfolding it and reading its contents, eyes growing wider with every word.

There was silence for several minutes, before Angel, with an almighty thud, fell upon the floor, crying, "What?!"

Mimi, Mark, and Collins had all shot up in alarm when Angel fell and were soon gathered around him. He simply shook his head, his hand flying to his mouth, moaning, "No…Oh, no…_No, Dios, por favor no me hagas esto_…" He buried his face in his hands, sobbing openly now. ***

On one side, Mimi grabbed onto him and hugged him tight, while Mark claimed his other shoulder, and Collins gently stroked his cheek, murmuring, "Oh, Angel…Oh, baby…" in a chant, as though broken.

"How?" He whispered, still staring at the paper in horror. "How could this happen?"

"Your father…slept around," Marcella said, sniffing; she barely had any tears left to cry at this point. "The night you were conceived, he gave me HIV and I didn't realize it until after you were born, and I didn't take any preventative medication…"

Angel stared at his mother, gripping Mimi's arm, wound tightly around his neck, in disbelief. "You never thought you should tell me?! How could you keep something like that from me for _sixteen God damned years_?!"

"I'm sorry, Angel, I didn't…" apparently, she did have tears left, because she fell back into hysterics, crying right along with her son. Angel's guilt went through the roof and he stood, shuffling over to the couch, and crashed down onto it, letting his mother wrap her arms around him. They cried together, exchanging apologies for everything they could even think of; from every time they'd mouthed off at each other to apologies for even existing.

"It's going to be okay," Marcella murmured when she had finally calmed herself. She combed a hand through her son's short hair. "If you take your medicine, you'll be just fine."

"Yeah," Mimi murmured from across the room. Mark and Collins had both excused themselves, realizing it really wasn't their place to be in on such a private moment but Mimi, a member of the family in everything but blood, had stayed to head the damage control. "People go their whole lives with HIV and never contract AIDS. You've just gotta take your meds – you'll be fine, Chica."

Angel nodded, shaking from head to toe. He wiped the tears away from his eyes and wiped the residue left on his fingers onto his jeans. "Thank you, Mimi…D-do you think I could have a moment alone?"

Mimi nodded, standing up, and Marcella murmured, "Of course…" before walking out. Abuela stood too, but stared warily at her grandson.

"Please, Abuela?" Angel asked, bringing his legs to his chest and burying his face in his knees. "I promise I'm not gonna slit my wrists or anything. Just…leave me alone for a few minutes, okay?"

Abuela nodded, kissing Angel's forehead before walking out of the living room and closing the sliding doors behind her.

Angel felt his chest burning and another wave of tears hit him, making his already spent tear ducts sting unpleasantly and his lungs ache. He shook his head, praying this was all a dream; that he was going to wake up and it would be Saturday morning again and it would all be a terrible nightmare. He pinched his arm repeatedly, sobbing and murmuring, "Please wake up, please wake up, please wake up…" before realizing it wasn't a dream and slumping against the back of the couch.

He wasn't asleep. This was real life and he was HIV positive. He might get AIDS. Never again would be able to do things on a whim; he would never be able to do certain things…like go camping with nothing but a sleeping bag and clothes on his back. He couldn't get sick without fearing for his life. He could never just fall into bed with the one he loved…

His head shot up and he let out a moan, banging his head against his knees. "Collins…"

It appeared his boyfriend heard and thought it was a call. He poked his head in the living room and questioned, "What do you need, babygirl?"

Angel's head snapped up and he blurted, "I want you to get tested."

Collins' face screwed up and he frowned. "Angel…we didn't _do_ anything…I don't know how I would have gotten…"

"Just please do it, for me?" Angel begged. "I'm not sure how it's transferred, but I do know that there are a lot of weird ways it can get into you…so, for me, okay? As soon as possible. I just…need to know I didn't…" He shook his head, swallowing and praying for no more tears; he had none left to cry in his aching, addled body.

"Okay, okay," Collins whispered.

"What about…" Angel mumbled, looking up at Collins. "I'd understand if you didn't…I mean…There's really no way to be completely safe anymore, is there? And I'd hate myself if I…"

Collins furrowed his brows, before his eyes widened and he walked over to where Angel was still curled on the sofa. "Baby…don't worry about that. We're taking it slow anyway and…when the time comes for that, we'll be prepared, okay? There's a bunch of precautions that we can take. We'll have to be careful, yeah. But…this isn't gonna keep me away from you, got it?"

Though he couldn't see the logic behind willingly subjecting yourself to possible disease, Angel just nodded and buried his face further into Collins' shirt, breathing in his scent deeply. After a few moments, Collins gently murmured, "Do you want to be left back alone, or…?"

Angel thought for a few moments before shaking his head. "No. My head's a pretty scary place right now…I don't really want to be alone with it. Call Mark and Mimi in here too, would you? Where's my mom?"

"She went to fill your prescription," Mark said, entering right behind Mimi. He'd obviously been listening. They all gathered around Angel again, Mimi on his left and Collins on his right, with Mark perched on the coffee table in front of him, just sending him a comforting gaze.

"Everything'll be okay, Chica," Mimi said, rubbing his knee. "You'll see. HIV isn't the death sentence it used to be. They've got treatments and stuff now. Who knows – maybe we'll even live to see a cure. They're getting closer and closer each day."

Angel nodded, his eyes drooping closed. He yawned and blushed, mumbling an apology.

"Tired, baby?" Collins asked, rubbing his shoulder. He nodded. "You should take a nap – it's been a bad day. Go ahead and lay down. We know the way out."

Angel nodded, pulling a blanket off the couch and snuggling down into it, resting his head on the arm of the couch and was soon asleep. Everyone glanced between each other and their friends. Mimi finally vocalized all their thoughts; "It couldn't have happened to a better person…"

No one had to voice their agreements; it was a given.

**

* * *

End Chapter; TBC

* * *

**

A/N: Thanks for reading everyone. Did anyone think this was bad? I'm not completely happy with it but I'm not sure what to do with it. I don't really think I overdid it, but if you think I did please tell me and maybe I can do some editing. Things are going to appear to go back to normal after this, but trust me there will be after shocks. I know my timeline is off – I'm sorry about that. If it really bothers you badly, I can try and change it. I know they didn't know about AIDS in 1974 (When Marcella was supposed to have found out about having it) but…creative license again?

Speaking of shocks…Next chapter: Angel takes a leap of faith and tries something new, and they all gather for a joint birthday for Roger and Mark.

Translations:  
*_Mamá, por favor, ¿qué hay de malo? Usted está asustando a mí! _Translates into: "Mama, please, what's going on? You're scaring me!"  
**_ "Ay, mi bebé, me siento tanto…" _Translates into: "Oh, my baby, I'm so sorry…"  
*** "_No, Dios, por favor no me hagas esto_…" Translates into: "No, God, please don't do this to me…"

I'm quite sorry if the translations don't make sense to the actual Spanish speakers among us. I've been using a translator site as I don't have an actual translator like I do for my Norwegian! Tell me if something sounds wonky and I will be more than willing to change it around! Thanks so very much for reading everyone. It means so very much to me!

Oh, and Gracias to my sister and my Aunt Jenny, the unofficial betas of this story…I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH! *Big kisses and hugs* I would bake you cookies if I wouldn't burn the house down in the attempt! And thank you to my actual beta; **Marky's Scarfy**! She's lovely too! *Virtual cookies & flying-tackle-hugs*

-Lynn


	7. Chapter 6: Halloween

A/N: So, I'm updating on Tuesday to see what your reaction would be. Tell me if I should start updating twice a week and your wish is my command. If there would be a more convinent day for you guys, then please tell me. :D

So…I was watching a rerun of Without a Trace recently with my sister and suddenly she's like, "Oh my God!" and I'm thinking someone got shot or something and I'm like, "Who died?" (Our Akita; Evita. Stopping now) and she's like, "Oh my God, it's Wilson! It's WJH on Without a Trace!" And we squealed for a long time. Haha. It's official; I'm a Wilson fangirl. Speaking of which: Song of the week: The Last Word, WJ Theory. Thoughts after finding it on YouTube: *Fangirl squee* HE HAS A BAND!

Oh, terminology for the chapter: **Drag hag**; a woman who enjoys the company of drag queens/a drag-queen-in-training. (Definition was stolen shamelessly from Urban Dictionary.)

Disclaimer: I don't own it! Jonathon Larson is the genius who came up with this! The only people I own are Jared and Tony! Oh, and Jessica if she happens to show up in this chapter which she probably won't…But yeah, don't own! Thank you for reading so much, guys!

**

* * *

Chapter 6: Halloween

* * *

**

Monday rolled around and like any Monday it started with Collins walking down to the bus stop. The weather had taken a turn for the frigid, but since he didn't want to drag out his winter coat already he simply pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. He couldn't yet see his own breath and that was his way of testing if he needed his heavier jacket but as he sat there he saw a vague fog issuing from his mouth upon every breath and groaned, wishing he'd taken more than one breath durring his test this morning.

Next to show was Mimi, as usual. She lived closer to the bus stop than both Roger and Angel so was usually the second to arrive if she wasn't already there. Her outfit was rather oxymoronic; she had on a corduroy jacket with faux-fur trim which looked rather warm. But on her legs she wore a short skirt and a pair of maroon stockings with boots. He furrowed his brows as she sat next to him on the curb and greeted him with a tired hello.

"That skirt dress code appropriate?" Collins asked, glancing down at it.

"Probably not," Mimi replied. "But since when does anyone in that school even care?"

"This is true," Collins replied, staring ahead again. They sat in silence for a few minutes until Mark walked up and mumbled something about Roger being sick and not coming to school that day before sitting down. Glances were exchanged and they all knew what the others were thinking. None of them had talked to Angel since Saturday. Not from lack of trying, but simply because the drag queen was silently refusing to return their phone calls. The answering machine would usually pick up, proving their suspicions that Angel was screening her calls. And when they did get a physical person, it was usually Marcella whom would then spin a story about Angel being asleep or doing homework.

Unbeknownst to them, a fourth party had joined their little group and chirped, "Hey, everyone" making them all jump out of their shoes and whip around quickly to see who had spoken. Simultaneously, their mouths dropped open and their eyes widened.

There stood Angel in complete drag. She wore a violet short-sleeved tee-shirt over white long-sleeved tee-shirt, and a purple jacket was draped around her shoulders. On her legs she had white tights and a violet skirt – the same one she'd been in when Collins met her. To complete the look, she wore purple converse and a purple flower in her wig. She smiled brightly and had they not been sitting at the school bus stop in the freezing cold with a fully feminized, sun-shining Angel (Who, up until five seconds ago, they were all under the impression was in some deep, dark depression) standing before them, they would have returned it.

"Angelchica, are you wearing that to school?" asked Mimi, frowning and getting up to join Angel's side. Angel frowned in return and looked down at her outfit.

"Yeah," she mumbled. "Yeah, I am. What, not flashy enough for my coming out?" she flashed a small smile which did not reach her eyes.

"No, I love it," Mimi mumbled, examining the outfit with a critical eye. "It's perfect. Very coordinated. But…you're sure you wanna do this, right Chica? This isn't just a whim or something?"

Angel shook her head. "No…This is something I should have done a long time ago and to be honest, I'm tired of not being who I am."

Mimi nodded and hugged Angel tightly. The transvestite closed her eyes and buried her face in her best friend's chaotic curls, sniffing a bit. They rocked back and forth, patting each other's backs and petting down the other's hair. Eventually they pulled back and smiled at each other.

"Thanks, Chica, I needed that," Angel sighed, rubbing Mimi's shoulder. Mimi shook her head, smiling and refusing Angel's thanks, saying it was no problem and it was the least a friend could do. They sat back down on the curb, Angel between Collins and Mark and Mimi on the other side of Collins, and Angel laid her head on Collins' shoulder. He rubbed her back.

Maureen and Joanne appeared last and plopped down on the other side of Mark. Before long, Maureen was half-asleep on Joanne's arm and fully unaware of anything taking place around her. Joanne glanced in Angel's direction and furrowed her brows. "Who are you?"

Angel looked towards her and upon getting a better look at the supposed unfamiliar; Joanne gasped and mumbled, "Angel?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"What…what are you _wearing_?" Joanne asked, mouth still hanging open. Mark reached across Maureen and politely pushed it up for her.

"Clothes," Angel replied, crossing her arms. "The kind of clothes I like to wear. Is that going to be a problem?"

Joanne bit her lip, hesitantly shaking her head. "I guess not…but…when did you start this? Is this a new thing, or…?"

"No, I've been dressing in drag for close to three years now," Angel informed, burrowing closer to Collins to try and suck more warmth from him.

"Then why start wearing it to school just now?" asked Joanne.

Angel sighed, rubbing her hands over her knees just to have something to do with them and mumbled, "There wasn't any reason to before; all the people I knew or cared about already knew - Not that you're not a friend, Chica - And everyone thought I was weird, sure, and probably gay, but they didn't actually know about _this_," she gestured to herself, "and to tell the truth I was scared of the reaction. I've heard plenty of horror stories. But…over the weekend, I found out that I'm HIV positive," Joanne's eyes widened and she let out a little squeak. "And I guess it kinda put things into perspective for me. I was pretty much a member of the walking dead until last night when I realized that if I lived in fear of tomorrow, then… well, then I'm not really living at all. That I'm letting the virus control me."

Joanne nodded and reached across Maureen and Mark, patting her knee. "I'm sorry about your news…but I'm happy to know you can be yourself around us. And don't worry about Maureen; if she didn't just hear, then I'll tell her, and tell you the truth, she'll want to be your best friend. She's a drag-hag."

Angel patted the sleeping drama queen on the head, before patting Joanne's knee and giggling, "Thanks, Chica. I'd totally hug you right now, but…" she giggled once again at Maureen and retracted her arm. Mark looked vaguely displeased at being reached across so much and crossed his arms, huffing quietly. Angel and Joanne poked him, chuckling.

The bus drove up and Mr. Larry greeted them all warmly as they stepped on one by one. When Angel came on, he frowned, furrowing his brows, then grinned, chuckling. "Angel, is that you? What in the world are you wearing, boy?"

Angel giggled, swishing her skirt around her knees. "Drag…"

Mr. Larry chuckled and patted her back, mumbling about 'crazy high school boys'. Angel breathed a sigh of relief and joined her friends at the back of the bus, sliding in next to Collins. "Well, that went a lot better than I expected, huh?"

Collins nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her cheek. "Don't worry, Ang. We all support you. Fuck everyone else, huh?"

Angel nodded slowly, mumbling, "I guess…" before starting a quick conversation with Mimi in Spanish which had Collins under the impression that even if he could understand Spanish he still wouldn't be able to understand this conversation due to its speed. But it did include a lot of giggling and glancing in his direction so he could only assume they were talking about him.

At the next bus stop, they could feel the tension in the atmosphere skyrocket as the crowd of students which always dominated the second stop filed onto the bus. And once someone noticed Angel and nudged someone else, it seemed to cause a chain reaction which ended in nearly three-fourths of the bus' population staring at her. Some, as was expected, looked disapproving and disgusted. Others looked confused; as if they had no idea who Angel was or maybe didn't know why she was in women's clothing and a wig. Then there were the select sympathetic few who looked pitying; or even accepting. And still others look indifferent, simply shrugging and turning back to their conversations.

Two boys, Raymond and Laurence, sniggered as they passed their seats and chose the seat behind Angel and Collins. Angel stiffened and did her best to ignore them while Collins looked as though he'd attack them with only the flimsiest reason for doing so. Angel laid a hand on his arm and subtly shook her head, begging with her eyes for him not to do anything. He sat back, not looking happy about it but surrendering for Angel's sake.

This resistance was tested severely however when, laughing, Laurence grabbed a lock of Angel's wig, picked it up, and dropped it back down. Then continued to do the same thing over and over again, only seeming to become more amused by the whole thing by the second. He giggled to Raymond, "Can't he feel it?" as he started to tug on that same lock of hair. Angel rolled her eyes and just hoped her wig would stay on.

"Of course it can't," Raymond hissed, also grabbing onto Angel's wig. With an almighty tug, he ripped it from Angel's head. "It's wearing a wig, you idiot."

"Okay, that's it," Collins growled, spinning and lunging over the back of the seat, trying to get the wig back. "Come on, man. Stop being an ass; give it back and we won't have a problem."

Raymond sniggered as he jerked the wig out of Collins' reach. "Oh, that's cute. Defending your boyfriend, huh?"

Collins nodded. "Yeah, now give me the wig."

Raymond rolled his eyes and asked, "What if I don't feel like it?"

Collins wound up and a fist made contact with the side of Raymond's face, but to everyone's surprise, it wasn't Collins'. They all looked to Angel, who was now fixing her wig back on her head, having recovered it from the floor when Raymond dropped it. The bus stopped and Raymond was still groaning on the bus seat. Angel stood, leaned down next to him, and growled, "I'd think twice before doing that again. You'd better know what you're messing with if you're such a dumbass that you _do_, do it again. And, oh," she leaned even closer and said a bit louder, "I'm more of a _man _than you'll_ ever_ be, and more of a _woman_ than you'll ever _get._" And flounced off the bus.

Collins looked down at Raymond and at the shocked face of Laurence, and hurried after Angel, sweeping her into a large hug from behind on the grass and crowed, "Woo! That's my _girl_! She _knows_ how to look after herself!"

Angel giggled and covered Collins' hands with her own, leaning back into him. She turned her head up and they kissed sweetly.

"Could you two _be_ any cuter?!" whined Maureen, stomping past them towards the picnic table. Collins laughed and let go of Angel, taking her hand and leading her to the table as well. They all gathered and talked and laughed until the bell rang and they had to head off to classes.

* * *

The Friday of the next week was Halloween. That Halloween was also Mark and Roger's joint birthday party. Roger's was on the 25 and Mark's was the 26 so the two blondes decided to celebrate their birthday in one big party. This was expected to result in a lot of fun for all involved, and since most of them hadn't trick-or-treated for a few years, they could all devote their nights to Mark and Roger's party. But there had been one command on the invitations; costumes were mandatory.

Now Mark sat in his living room with Collins, the first arrival, awaiting everyone else. Roger, though not fully recovered from the throat infection he somehow had procured over the weekend, was not going to miss his own party so planned on showing up. Mark was setting up his camera on the tripod and grinned at it as he turned it on.

"The date is October 31, 1989. Yes, everyone, that's Halloween. It's also mine and Roger's joint birthday party. Sitting in back of me is Collins, who showed up about an hour ago carting a 24 pack of beer. My parents have gone out for the night – thank God – so I've got free rein of the house. And we're all free to get as drunk as we want. Tell everyone what we're doing, Collins?"

Collins looked towards the camera, already drinking his first beer, and waved. "Uh…we're gonna celebrate Mark's 17th birthday and Roger's 18th and…drink beer. Get wasted."

"You're very elegant," Mark complimented.

Collins raised his beer in a toast to himself. "I try."

"So, I'm a director," he gestured to his outfit complete with frilly top and a hat Angel had lent him which had a floppy top but a bill like a baseball hat. "Not exactly director's garb but it'll do. Collins is…who the hell _are _you, Collins?"

"Bond, James Bond," Collins said, winking at the camera. He had a horrible British accent going and Mark rolled his eyes.

The doorbell rang and Mark hurried to open it. There were loud voices which Collins couldn't exactly make out through two walls, and Mark came back into the room, Angel hopping in behind him. She was all decked out in a mini skirt (Which, come to think of it, looked a lot like it was made out of a shower curtain) and jacket with pink tights and platform heels. And toting a bottle of Stoli vodka, the origins of which Mark really did not want to know. She waved excitedly at Collins and skipped over to him, plopping down in his lap and greeting him with an enthusiastic kiss. "Hey, baby! You like the outfit?"

"Very much," Collins replied, kissing her cheek again and resting his head against her shoulder. She always smelled like a vague mixture of savory spices and sweet fruits and Collins found it absoloutly intoxicating. "Who're you supposed to be?"

"Pussy Galore," Angel replied, grinning. "She's a Bond girl."

"No kidding," Collins laughed, looking down at his attire which consisted of a suit jacket, dark jeans, and a black tee-shirt with some saying printed on it. "I'm supposed to _be_ James Bond. Can you tell?"

Angel laughed. "I've gotta say I can't. Then again, how is someone supposed to get Pussy Galore out of this get up?"

"Good question," Mark replied, pointing his camera towards her, "Enter Angel Dumott Schunard, the lovely drag queen amongst us. She apparently thinks Collins is a chair…Should I correct her?" he pretended to listen to his audience. "Nah. From the looks of it, Collins is a comfortable chair."

Angel stuck her tongue out while Collins flipped Mark off. Mark cried, "Hey! There may be young impressionable children watching this! Watch what you do!"

Collins rolled his eyes and patted Angel's thigh, which she took as the signal for 'remove your ass from my lap' and slid off him, instead pushing herself into his side and laying her head on his shoulder, watching Mark fiddle with his camera, cursing about it being an 'old piece of shit'.

Once again the doorbell rang and the person sounded rather impatient to get into the house.

_Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding dong dingdong dingdong dingdongdingdong_

"I'M _COMING_!" Mark yelled then mumbled, "Maureen…" and hurried out of the room to open the door for the drama queen who apparently had not heard (or had ignored) his bellow.

"There's one birthday boy!" she cried, hugging him. Joanne hugged him too, though not hanging off him like her girlfriend had. "Now where's the other?"

"Still not here," Mark replied, leading her into the house. "Who are you guys supposed to be?"

"Cat woman and a hippie," Joanne drawled monotonously. She and Maureen sat down and Maureen pulled her quickly into her lap. Joanne rolled her eyes but snuggled down, knowing there was no arguing with her and not really wanting to protest in the first place.

The second Mark sat down, the door bell rang again and he grumbled something under his breath, getting up and opening it. Mimi cried, "Marky! Happy birthday!" and hurried into the living room. She laid eyes on Angel and her bottle of vodka and cried, "Pussy! You came prepared!"

Mark did not want to know how she knew who Angel was supposed to be.

"I was a Boy Scout once. And a Brownie…until some brat got scared!" Angel giggled, standing up and hugging Mimi tight. Mark remembered this incident quite well. Angel had somehow wandered into the Brownie camp and thought she was a Brownie until she'd scared some five-year-old who then went running to her mother, who in turn kicked Angel out of their camp. Angel had proceeded to complain quite loudly to him. That was how she'd met Mark, and Mark was quite thankful for Angel's stupid mistakes.

Roger finally showed up and Maureen squealed at the sight of him, kissing each cheek and hugging him tight. "Happy birthday! Good to see you got over that mono!"

Roger rolled his eyes, hugging Maureen back and pushing her back towards Joanne, who was pulled back into Maureen's lap and quietly kissed. "Yeah, yeah. Who knew Stephanie Shepard had mono?"

"You made out with Stephanie Shepard?!" Maureen cried in disgust. "Uhg…she's…"

"Evil?" Mimi supplied, picking at the chipping blue nail lacquer that went along with her Go-go dancer outfit. Said outfit consisted of a pair of tight blue latex pants, a sliver top with black latex sleeves and a fishnet mid-drift, and high boots.

"Good word," Maureen agreed, looking back towards Roger. "You seriously made out with her?"

"No, she made out with _me_," Roger replied, frowning. "Is there such a thing as mouth-rape?"

"She molested you?!" Angel cried, looking horrified.

"Chill out, Angel," Mark said. "Roger likes having random girls shove their tongues down his throat. Why do you think he started a band?"

"Because he appreciates music and wants to broadcast his own special version of it to the world?" Angel suggested.

"No, it's the groupies," Roger replied. He looked over at Mimi. "I've gotta say; you'd make a way better groupie than Stephanie did. What are you supposed to be anyway?"

"A Go-Go Dancer," Mimi replied, "basically the sixties' answer to a stripper."

Roger nodded and sat down beside her and grinned at everyone, looking for the entire world like he'd never been sick. Angel found herself envying his immune system. "So…are we gonna get this party started or what?"

Maureen chirped an affirmative and slid Joanne off her lap, kissing her cheek before bouncing into the kitchen and opening the cabinet below the microwave. She rummaged around for a few minutes before resurfacing clutching another bottle of vodka - orange flavored. She thumped it onto the coffee table and went back for polystyrene cups before playing bartender and pouring everyone cups of what they pleased. Then she cried, "I know! Let's play a game! Spin the bottle or I Never?!"

"I NEVER," everyone chorused. Mimi added, "I can't play that other game 'till I'm good and drunk, girl."

"Okay, the people have spoken," Maureen grumbled, running her finger around the inside of her ear. She grumbled under her breath, "Unanimously and _loudly_…" while sitting down next to Joanne and popping open her beer. "Rules; someone says something that they've never done and everyone who has done it has to take a drink. Who's going first?"

They all stared at her and she rolled her eyes, getting the point. "Okay…I've never…been attracted to a member of the opposite sex."

"What was I?!" cried Mark, frowning.

"A very bad mistake," Maureen replied, pecking Joanne on the cheek.

Roger and Mimi were the only ones to drink and Maureen stared at Mark, crying, "What was _I_?!"

"A very bad mistake," Mark replied cheekily. "Hmm…I've never worn a skirt."

Angel, Mimi, Maureen, and Joanne drank this time and everyone was slightly surprised but not completely shocked by Joanne's admission; she just didn't seem the type, and those who had known her for long enough for it to be considered practical had never seen her in one.

"I've never played guitar," Joanne said, smiling evilly at Roger. He drank and sneered, "I've never kissed Maureen!" and both Mark and Joanne drank and he mumbled, "Oh, yeah…" while slumping back, defeated.

"I've never eaten chocolate-covered strawberries," Mark offered. Angel, Mimi, and Maureen all squeaked indignantly and took huge gulps from their respective alcoholic drinks. Joanne, Roger, and Collins drank too, though were less dramatic about it.

"You've _never_ had chocolate-covered strawberries?!" Mimi cried, shaking him. "You have not _lived_ until you've eaten chocolate-covered strawberries!"

Mark rolled his eyes, gripping Mimi's wrists and jerking her hands away from his shirt. "No, I haven't. It's not the end of the world, Mimi."

Mimi leaned back and crossed her legs, still huffing indignantly. "It very well may be!"

"I've never gotten to second base!" Angel cried suddenly to dissolve the bad atmosphere. Everyone but Mark look large gulps and Mimi refilled her cup of vodka. "Well, I'm pathetic…"

"We can start a club," Mark suggested, shrugging.

"Yeah, and we can call it Angel and Mark's Club of Celibacy," Angel chirped, bouncing in her seat.

"Let's see…" Mimi looked about the room, hoping for something to pop out at her. "I've never… had a dog."

Everyone but Angel and Joanne drank and they glanced at each other, grinning.

"I hate dogs," Joanne grumbled.

"I'm allergic to them," Angel replied.

"And I lived in an apartment until about two years ago," Mimi said. "We weren't allowed to have dogs in the building; only rodents and fish. I have a guinea pig named Lucy and a goldfish named Ethyl. I was obsessed with fifties television. Sue me."

"You're all just strange," Collins finalized. He glared over at Joanne. "How can you not like dogs?"

"They're just big and lumbering and slobbery and annoying…" Joanne mumbled. "And I don't like those qualities in my pets. I like cats. They're hygienic and small and cute."

"And snobbish like you," Maureen joked, poking Joanne. She glared at her girlfriend. "Sorry, Pookie."

Joanne nodded, getting over it quick.

"I've never painted my finger nails," was what Collins came up with and the girls, plus Angel and Roger drank. Roger simply flashed his black-lacquered finger nails which went along with his rocker costume and no one questioned him.

"This is getting boring," Mimi groaned, filling her cup again. "I'm drunk enough, Maureen. Let's play spin the bottle."

Angel hopped up and picked up Maureen's empty beer bottle and led the way to the spot of clear hardwood floor behind the sofa where they all formed a circle around the bottle. "Who's going first?"

They decided to spin the bottle to figure out who would go first and it landed on Maureen, who squealed and spun it. It landed on Collins and the two gay teens grinned at each other. Maureen lunged towards him and they made out – _really _made out – for a few minutes before pulling back after the need for air began banging on their lungs and migrated back towards their spots. Angel was giggling drunkenly and clapped, while Joanne didn't look as happy but the frown was lessened when upon rejoining her side, Maureen immediately kissed her cheek.

Collins spun and got Roger, who rolled his eyes and crawled across the circle and pecked him, before crawling back to plop down next to a giggling Mimi. He elbowed her and she elbowed back. Roger declared war and they spent the next several minutes in a giggle-laden elbowing battle.

"Roger, spin!" Angel cried, gesturing to the bottle. He took it and spun. It landed on Mimi and he bit his lip, head shooting up to look at her. She grinned and leaned towards him, pressing their lips together. She had some sort of flavored lip gloss on and Roger licked along her bottom lip to taste more of it. Mimi took this as a plea for entrance and immediately opened her mouth. He took the invitation, shooting his tongue out to intertwine with her's. She moaned low in her throat and pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck.

They were getting wolf whistles by this point and Angel, always a giggly type of drunk, was laughing hysterically, finding the kissing pair absoloutly hilarious for some reason which she didn't seem inclined to share with anyone else. Finally, Mimi and Roger broke apart and sat up, both looking very satisfied with themselves. Mimi spun and yipped when it looked like it was going to land on Mark, but it moved a little further to instead point to Angel and Mimi giggled at her best friend. "Let's give 'em a show, Chica!'

"Dunno if we can top what you two just did but we'll try," Angel replied. They crawled towards each other and grabbed onto each other, kissing and exaggeratedly pulling at each other. Angel's hands were tangled (literally; she wasn't sure she was going to be able to get them out at the end of the whole thing) in Mimi's hair and Mimi was gripping Angel's hips hard enough to leave bruises. Both were trying not to snort into the kiss but it was really hard to kiss with smiles, they found, and soon broke apart, giving into impulse and laughing hysterically. Mimi cried out between giggles as Angel tugged her hands from her hair and Angel hissed as Mimi relinquished the pressure on her hips and the ten finger-sized bruises filled with blood and began aching. They laughed more and eventually composed themselves, crawling back towards their places in the circle.

"Okay, my turn," Angel giggled, taking the bottle and spinning it. She shrieked when it landed on Mark and leaned towards him quickly, pecking him on the lips, and then licked his cheek. Mark made a disgusted sound and wiped her saliva off his cheek, rubbing it onto her skirt. She squealed loudly again and shied away from him. Collins laughed and covered her mouth, hushing, "Angel, baby, quiet down; you're a little drunk." She responded by licking his hand and sitting up properly, swaying for no apparent reason and looking towards Mark who reluctantly spun the thing.

He groaned; it had landed on Joanne. Joanne smiled and crawled across the circle. They kissed shortly and Joanne crawled backwards and plopped back down next to Maureen, who giggled and slapped her ass. Joanne looked scandalized, but seeing that no one cared, just cuffed Maureen gently over the head. She spun and repeated a similar act with Roger. Who then ended up getting Maureen.

"Come, my pretty," he sneered gutturally as he crawled towards her. She giggled and pretended to quake with fright.

"Please, no sir!" she cried as he reached her. "Are you going to kiss me and make me touch you in the naughty place?! Please don't make me! I'm just an innocent little orphan girl!"

"Yeah, you're innocent and I'm a hippo," Roger snorted.

"Then kiss me and get it over with, Mr. Hippo!" she cried, before Roger leaned forward and kissed her quickly. It was a little too indecent to be called a peck, but it was short and soon Roger had crawled back to sit between Mimi and Mark and Maureen was spinning.

It landed on Mark and they leaned towards each other at the same time and crashed their noses together along with their lips. They cried out and pulled back, rubbing their noses. They laughed at each other and Mark reached towards the bottle, quickly spinning it. Angel.

She squeaked, realizing everyone was staring at her, and crawled towards Mark, quickly pecking him again and shuffling back towards her spot, spinning. It landed on her and she grinned. "That means I get to pick!" she spun on Collins and crawled towards him, placing herself straddling him and nuzzling his cheek, murmuring, "Pucker up…" before tipping her head down and pushing her lips gently to his. Their tongues were soon entwined and Collins ran his fingers through her wig, accidentally pulling it off. She paid no heed, running her hands down his sides, ducking them under his tee-shirt and feeling her fingers run over his muscles. She moaned and inched closer.

Collins pushed her gently away when he realized it was now all too obvious (to him at least) that Angel was really a man and decided they needed to calm themselves down. "Okay, Ang. I think that's enough."

Angel giggled and apologized quietly, plopping down beside him and pulling a throw pillow off the sofa, covering her lap. Mimi giggled and Maureen shrieked, "Oh, my God! Angel popped wood!" and collapsed against Joanne in uncontrollable giggles. Angel blushed and covered her face with her much abused wig. Collins spun and got Mimi, who leaned across Angel and pecked him, before leaning back and poking Angel repeatedly, giggling all the while and much, too fascinated with her little game. She looked up and suddenly remembered she had to spin, and did it. She crawled across the circle and gave a smooch to Joanne.

"Okay, Pookie, you're the last one," Maureen said. "Then we open presents and eat cake."

Joanne nodded and spun, landing on Maureen. They grinned at each other and Maureen pulled Joanne down to lay atop her on the floor and pressed their lips together. The two were soon heavily making out on the floor, Joanne straddling Maureen and Maureen running her fingers through Joanne's kinky curls. Everyone clapped for the finale to the game when they pulled apart and Mimi hopped up, beating everyone into the kitchen and picking up Roger and Mark's presents, handing them to them respectively.

"We all pulled together our money and got you two some really nice gifts, so that's why you only have one each," Maureen explained. "Go ahead, guys; open them!"

Mark gasped as he uncovered his present, pulling a new camera out of a sea of packing peanuts. "Oh my God, guys…How much did this cost? How did you _pay_ for this? This is…_amazing_…"

"You don't need to know," Maureen replied, kissing his cheek. "It's a gift; you're not supposed to know the price. As for the way we did it, well Collins and Joanne had summer jobs and the rest of us saved up our allowance. That's how we paid for Roger's too. Open it, Rog!"

Roger unwrapped the large package and pulled out a new, shining acoustic guitar. He gasped as Mark had and smoothed his hand over the finish. "Wow…guys…I'm…I just can't say anything…"

"Try it," Angel urged, making a shoving gesture with her hands but not actually touching it. Roger smiled at her and strummed a few lines, grinning at the sound it created.

"This is amazing," Mark said, shaking his head. "Just amazing…I love you guys so much, you know that?"

Angel grinned and held her arms open. Mark stepped into them and they hugged tightly before Mark pulled away and hugged everyone else, even Roger, mumbling happy birthday to him. They had vague suspicions that they were in on each other's gifts but said nothing, wanting those suspicions to be confirmed.

"It takes different tape," Mimi said, gesturing to a second box on the table. "So we got you some of that so you can start whenever you like."

Roger then walked around and hugged everyone, kissing the girl's cheeks and exchanging back-pats and 'Love ya, man''s with the guys of the group. When he reached Mimi, he gently kissed her cheek and murmured, "You barely know me."

Mimi grinned. "Don't say that. I've been hanging out with your for two months now and you're a pretty awesome guy. Don't count yourself down, okay Roger?" she kissed his cheek in return and hugged him and everyone awed.

They ate cake and sat around, no longer drinking alcohol so they could sober up before they had to go home. Roger noticed that Mimi only ate half of her piece of cake and frowned at her, asking her about it. She mumbled something about not being very hungry and he shrugged.

"Can I have it then?" he asked and he couldn't help but notice Angel was giving him a particularly evil look from across the table.

"You are the birthday boy," Mimi giggled, scrapping it onto his plate.

Angel began to feel tired a little after ten and she mentioned as much to Collins, who agreed to walk her home. Before they left, they helped Mark clean up (His parents were supposed to be getting home at eleven-thirty and it certainly wouldn't do to have them walk in onto a living room full of empty beer bottles) and took a few minutes to again hug the birthday boys before leaving.

They wandered down the chilly street, watching as the stragglers (mostly teenagers their age) from Halloween progressed down the streets, back to their homes. Then there were the few threatening-looking individuals wandering around, which prompted Collins to pull Angel a bit closer which Angel didn't mind at all.

"Hey," Angel said as they reached the stoop. "My mom's house sitting for my grandma tonight because she had to fly out to Guatemala this weekend because of some family emergency…"

"Uhuh," Collins replied, chuckling and twirling a piece of her wig around his finger. "What of it?"

"Wanna stay the night?" she suggested. He raised a brow and she rolled her eyes. "I promise I'm _almost_ completely sober; I'm not gonna try and molest you."

Collins laughed again, nodding. "Okay. My mom knows I might stay at Mark's anyway."

Angel took out her key and unlocked it, grabbing his hand and leading him up the stairs. She asked him if he wanted her to see if she could find something in her pajamas that could fit him, but he declined saying that he could just wear his undershirt and boxers.

They reached Angel's room and Angel sighed, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the back of her door, reaching down and unzipping her skirt before she suddenly remembered that she had an audience and turned towards him. "Uh…I'll go to the bathroom."

"No, no, it's your house," Collins said, covering his eyes. "I'll just do this."

Angel giggled and continued to undress, turning her back to Collins just incase. She unzipped the skirt and shimmied it down her thighs, pulling her tights with them and draping them both over the back of the desk chair. She took off her wig and set it on the desk; it would go on the foam head when she was done undressing.

He took off his blouse and slung it over the same chair as his other clothing and slid his panties down his legs, stepping quickly out of them, picking them up and tossing them in the hamper. He quickly selected some pajamas; a grey tee-shirt and a blue pair of shorts. He dressed in these quickly and told Collins it was okay to look now, before telling him that he was free to undress; that he was going to the bathroom to wipe the make-up off his face.

Arriving back in the room, he found Collins sitting on the bed as though not really sure what to do with himself. Angel asked him to get up so he could turn down the bed sheets and slid under them, patting the mattress next to him. "C'mon; it's okay…I won't bite."

Collins laughed and slid under with him. It was a small bed and they were forced to remain quite close together but that was okay with them. It took them a while to get comfortable and they finally ended up with Angel draped half on Collins' body with his head right over where his heart was and Collins' arms wrapped around his body.

"G'night, Collins," Angel murmured, kissing his chest.

"Good night, my Angel," Collins replied, raking a hand through his hair and craning his neck downward at a weird angle to kiss his forehead. He smiled a bit in his half-consciousness. "Sweet dreams, baby…sweet dreams…"

**

* * *

End chapter; TBC

* * *

**

A/N: Too fast? I'm sorry. Collins was really sappy at the end, I think. *Is too lazy to change it and doesn't frankly care.*

All the MoJo and MiRo shippers hopefully appreciated this chapter. Did you? I'm sorry I didn't go more in depth with the MoJo kiss, but I kinda felt that it was repeating myself, first with Mimi and Roger's then with Angel and Collins'. I'm sorry! I love you guys too! If you want MoJo then go look up my story _Splash_. There was actually a little something for everyone in this chapter, wasn't there? If I forgot anyone, I'll make it up to you somehow! Lol.

Hey! Longest chapter yet! I'm kinda stuck what to do for the next chapter but I do think it will have something to do with maybe Angel meeting Collins' parents? I dunno…

Thanks to the awesome **Marky's Scarfy** for betaing and moral support! And thanks as well to all you reviewers! I love each and every one of you!

Haha. Anyways; me loves creative criticism!

-Lynn


	8. Chapter 7: These are NOT Baby Steps!

A/N: I'm very dubious of the reaction to this chapter… AmaXdear is gonna kill me. And I have the suspicion that this is my one-way ticket to hell…and I'm pretty sure they're moving way too fast. And this was officially my first attempt at AC stuff…because I wouldn't consider this smut. Nonono. And I hate myself and I'm really scared of the reaction! *Winces and hides behind computer chair* One more thing you guys shoulder know is that I altered the timeline a bit. Instead of only one week, Mark and Roger's party was two weeks after Angel found out she had HIV. So this is about three weeks after the date. :D And they've technically been dating since August 30, and in story-land it's November first. That's two months. :D And yeah; I changed the location of Halloween. I'm so awesome that way. :D

Uhm… I kinda thought this was obvious but I got a question or two I'm gonna answer…First of all; this is a high school fic. Mimi isn't a stripper, nor is she going to be a stripper. They are in high school, people. Which I kinda thought was obvious. Second, I can't tell you if Angel will die or not. The only people who know that are me and Marky's Scarfy. :D But feel free to keep reading!

Song of the week: You'll be in My Heart – Phil Collins from the Tarzan Movie. This is finding its way into a story one way or another, I can feel it!

Oh, and I'm not shitting you – I literally found out like FIVE SECONDS AGO how to pronounce the names Carlisle and Esme. (*Gasps of horror or joy* YES! LYNN READS TWILIGHT!) I am officially pathetic.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize! The late, great Jonathon Larson owns and created it all! Larson bless and may he rest in peace!

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Chapter 7: These are NOT Baby Steps!

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The birds were chirping outside the window and Angel groaned, going to grab the pillow out from under his head and throw it at the window. He had a tiny bit of a hangover and didn't feel like dealing with the birds and bees this morning. But he suddenly found that there wasn't even a pillow under his head; that he was groping hard muscles and tugging at a cotton tee-shirt. He grumbled and plopped his head back on Collins' chest, which in turn woke up the African American boy. He looked as though he didn't know where he was for a few minutes before be looked down and saw Angel's curls. A gentle smile formed on his face and he ran a hand up his back.

"Morning," Angel mumbled into his chest and Collins jumped, not having realized he was awake. "I see you're happy to see me. Not."

"Aw, don't be that way, Ang," Collins laughed, craning his neck down to plant a kiss on the crown of Angel's funnily-shaped head. He turned his head up and pecked Collins, pulling back and grinning at him. He rolled onto his side and crawled until his eyes were level with Collins' and popped up on one elbow, his hangover completely forgotten. "So…what's on the schedule for today?"

"What; do I look like a memo pad?" Collins chuckled. "I'm just as clueless as you, girl. What do you wanna do?" He began running his thumb over Angel's hip in a never-ending circle and watched his facial expressions go from thought to realization to thought again as he considered the options.

Finally, he just shrugged, running a finger across Collins' chest in random squiggles. "We could hang out with Mimi or Mark; then again, we hung out with them yesterday and I think they're tired of us." That was obviously code for 'something involving just you me' and Collins couldn't agree more. "Uhm…we could sit on our asses all day but that's not fun…" he glanced up to see Collins staring at him with adoring eyes and, blushing, murmured, "What?"

"Nothing," Collins replied, gently kissing his forehead. "Just…" he trailed a line of gentle kisses down his face. "You are too, damned," his lips hovered over Angel's and the Latino shivered upon Collins' next words, "Cute, and _sexy_…"

"Collins…," Angel whispered, closing his eyes and licking his lips.

"Hm?" Collins asked, letting his hand go a little farther south, ghosting his fingers over Angel's thigh. He knew he was testing Angel's boundaries but also knew that if the Latino got uncomfortable he would tell him.

Angel turned his eyes up to meet Collins' and trailed a hand to rest cupping the back of his neck, pulling Collins towards him. "No one's…ever called me sexy before."

"You are," Collins assured. Angel smiled and hesitantly leaned forward, initiating a gentle kiss. He rose up and straddled Collins, opening his mouth and shooting his tongue out to play with Collins' lower lip. Their tongues met and entwined. Angel let out a small moan and trailed his fingers lower, lower, until they were resting on Collins' abdominals. He traced the contours, continuing where he'd had to stop last night. He broke the kiss, however, as he felt Collins' hands at the waistband to his shorts.

"Stop?" Collins asked, beginning to pull his hands away.

Angel bit his lip, appearing to be deep in thought. Slowly, he shook his head, whispering, "No…but, ah…" he hooked a thumb under the elastic and began pulling down. "Only hands, okay?"

Collins nodded and watched as Angel continued to pull down the blue fabric of his shorts, exposing inch after precious inch of caramel skin. His breath was rasping from him in pants, why Collins didn't know but it was probably a mixture of nervousness and arousal. Angel stopped then, inching a bit further up on Collins' body and mumbling, "Ah…just let me…" and pushed his lips to Collins', effectively distracting him until his shorts hit the floor with a soft plop.

"Okay," Angel whispered, setting his head on Collins' shoulder. "Go ahead."

Collins chuckled, running a hand through Angel's hair. "Why don't you want me to see you? Are you horribly deformed or something?" he kissed the Latino's temple.

"No…," Angel mumbled, turning his head and staring into Collins' eyes. "I just…I dunno…"

Still chuckling, Collins kissed Angel again and trailed his hand back between their bodies, gripping Angel gently and watching his face as his eyes closed and he breathed in sharply, catching his bottom lip in his teeth and bucking forward a bit.

"How's that?" asked Collins as his fingers whispered over the heated flesh.

"Um…good," Angel murmured, his brows knitted together, "but could you, uh, grip…maybe a little…harder?"

Collins made a light fist and Angel nodded his satisfaction into his shoulder, a soft keening now issuing from somewhere deep in his throat. Before long, those small sounds turned into loud moans and Collins was glad there wasn't anyone around to hear them. The feel of Angel's hot breath on his neck was driving him crazy. He was also enraptured at the sound of the younger boy's voice, whispering unintelligible gibberish, mostly his name ("Tom…!") mixed in with various Spanish phrases ("_Sí, oh Dios, por favor, no parar…_") and some profanity.

Suddenly, the Latino stiffened and let out three drawn out, guttural moans ("Collins, oh God!") and Collins felt his tee-shirt begin to dampen; a little further with each moan. Angel dropped his head heavily onto Collins' shoulder, breathing heavily. Finally, he looked at Collins and simply whispered, "Wow…"

Collins laughed, petting down Angel's sweaty hair and kissed his brow. "Yeah; though I think I need a hearing aid. I'll send ya my bill."

Angel rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out. "Shut up…"

"Kidding, Ang," Collins said, looking around for something other than a piece of clothing to wipe his hand off on. Angel pulled away and crawled to the other end of the bed, hanging over the side and pulling a box of tissues from under the bed. He handed them to Collins while pulling the sheets up to cover himself.

After wiping off his hand, Collins rolled over and popped up on one elbow. He and Angel stared at each other for several seconds before Angel grinned and glanced down at the front of Collins' boxers. "You've got a bit of a problem there."

Collins shrugged. "Maybe I liked your noises."

Angel blushed, crawling towards him and reaching towards the waistband of his boxers, murmuring, "Your turn…"

* * *

"Angel? Angeeeeel? ANGEL! WAKE UP!"

Angel jolted out of her daydream, glared across the table at Mimi. The Latina was innocently licking thick milkshake off the green straw that was stuck in it and smiled at Angel. "Welcome back to Earth. Was your trip fun?"

After quickly glancing around for anyone looking under the age of ten, Angel subtly flipped Mimi off before pulling a fry from the basket in the middle of the table and stuffing it in her mouth. "Shut up. What were you saying?"

"I was _saying_," she said, acting falsely exasperated with her best friend. "That I have a special occasion next Saturday and are you going to be available to help me get ready?"

They were sitting in the Life Café after school on Monday for a snack. They'd asked everyone else but Roger apparently had 'something' to do, Collins had a dentist appointment, Maureen and Joanne had to go somewhere…together; which probably meant 'somewhere' was one of their bedrooms. And Mark had an AV club meeting to attend, so that just left the two best friends.

"Sure, I'm always ready to help you out," she replied, plopped her head atop her left hand, before seizing another fry. She trailed it through the salt gathered in the bottom of the basket, and popped it in her mouth. "What is it?

"Roger asked me out," Mimi said, dreamily. "Yesterday…" She picked up a fry and missed her mouth twice before hitting her target.

"Really?" Now sitting at attention, Angel grinned across the table at Mimi. "Roger? The Roger Davis we know?"

"Uh-huh…"

"Very nice. So does that mean you're going out now?" She wrinkled her nose at her own wording. _'Wow…flashback to Junior High…'_

"Yeah…" Mimi sighed, quite obviously about ten thousand light-years away. Then again; Mimi wasn't helping things. She was acting like some seriously crushing twelve-year-old.

"Aw! I'm happy for you," Angel cooed. "This'll be good for you, Chica! And he's really cute."

"Yeah…"

"Hey, Mimi?"

"Yup…?"

"Are you a fairy princess?"

"Uh-huh…"

"Is Roger your sulky fairy prince?"

"Yeah…"

"Can I have the last French fry?"

"Yup…"

"Great!" Angel chirped, grabbing the last fry and bit off the end. Mimi looked up, mumbling, "Wait…" before she got a mock-furious look on her face and roared, "ANGEL!" and flicked some water from the glass Angel ordered but hadn't touched at her. Angel did so in return and this started a water-flicking war that ended when a waiter came over and told them to calm down or get out.

"So…why have _you_ been zoning out all day?" Mimi asked around the straw of her milkshake. "You were totally dead to the world in math, and you were looking at the blackboard in English like it was the most interesting thing in the world to you. Or, ya know…like you were in love with it," she snorted.

Angel shrugged, blushing. "Nothing…I just had a really good weekend, okay?"

"Ooh…what was good about it?" Mimi teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. She expected Angel to retaliate with offended denial, but instead the transvestite just glanced down into her milkshake, a rosy blush adoring her cheeks. Mimi's mouth fell open and she cried, "Oh my God! You did? You DID?!"

Angel grinned a bit, nodding her head and sucking a bit of milkshake out. "Yeah…we did…"

"How far?!" cried Mimi, sitting at attention, "all the way? Did you use protection? 'Cuz, you know…"

"Only second," assured Angel, displaying two fingers.

"Oh, okay," Mimi sighed as her back once again made contact with the back of the bench; she seemed to have calmed.

An ugly scowl twisted its way onto Angel's face and she glared ferociously at her best friend. "Do you really think I'd…?"

"No, it's just, you know…" Though barely fazed at all by her fellow Latina's defensiveness, Mimi struggled to get the words out. "I trust you, Chica. It's just…like you said that one day; there's really no way to be completely safe considering the circumstances, is there?" Angel still refused to say the word 'HIV' and no one spoke it around her, either. They knew acceptance came in different forms to everyone and Angel was doing a lot better than anyone expected her to.

Realizing she had a point, Angel immediately felt ridicules and slumped back, nodding mournfully in agreement with her friend. "That's true."

"But I'm also pretty sure there ain't nothing that's gonna keep that boy away from you, Chica," Mimi added, reaching across the table patting her hand. "Try not to doubt yourself, okay? If he really cares about you, he'll see past the obvious. And seeing as he's been doing a pretty damned good job of it…" she leaned back, tilting her head to the side, implying that she knew Angel could work the rest out for herself.

A beeping suddenly reached their ears from Angel's bag and Angel reached her hand behind her, tugging the orange pack off the back and opening it. She took out a black beeper and stopped its squawking by pressing a red button on its side, then reached back in, bringing out a pill tin. She pulled out a little capsule, white with a blue ring around it, and placed it on her tongue, drinking it down with a slip of her milkshake.

"AZT break," Mimi mumbled, plopping her head onto her hand. She glanced at the water, suddenly realizing why Angel had ordered it along with her milkshake, "sorry about massacring your water."

Angel waved it off, shrugged, and picked up her beeper, mumbling, "What's the time?" **(Well, it's gotta be close to midniiiight! Stopping now…)**

"Four-thirty," Mimi replied. After quickly calculating the math, Angel set it to go off again at nine-thirty and shoved both the beeper and her pill tin back in her purse. The two Latinas stared mournfully at each other for a few moments before Mimi murmured, "So…how was it?"

"What?" Waving her hand, she attracted the waiter and Angel asked for the bill.

"Well, duh!" Mimi cried when the waiter was gone once again, "second base! Tell me everything, girl!"

A rose-red tint colored Angel's cheeks and she turned her head down, poking at the dregs of her milkshake. "Well…I dunno…he was really sweet about it…he knew what he was doing." She giggled. "I thought it would be awkward and stuff…and it kind of was at first…but it wasn't for him and I just kind of relaxed with him and…let him take control of the situation. And it was…just amazing. So intimate, Meems…It was kind of like he'd seen me at my weakest and didn't take advantage of me, you know? He said I was sexy."

"Girl, I would have told ya that!" Mimi giggled in return. Something in Angel's expression must have caught her attention because she appeared to become suddenly fascinated with Angel's shining eyes. "You…you love him, don't you?"

This question was one Angel hadn't been expecting and she shot her head up all at once. Not being able to meet Mimi's eyes, she scratched the side of her face and glanced down once again. Mimi was now seriously wondering if her best friend's chocolate drink was telling her the secrets of the world. "I don't know…I mean…is that appropriate after only…what? Two months? Does that make sense?"

"Chica," simultaneously reaching across the table, the two Latinas gripped hands, "love doesn't _have_ to make sense. It just _is_. Now tell me. Do. You. Love. Him?"

Worrying at her lip with her teeth, Angel's eyes darted around, looking for an answer in the pattern of the glossy tabletop. What was love? Was love being hopelessly attracted to someone? Was love letting someone take whatever they wanted from you? Or was it not being able to get someone off of your mind? Was it wanting to spent the rest of your life with someone despite the consequences; despite the fact that it made no sense whatsoever? Willing to give your life just so someone else had one more minute left on earth? Was it _wanting_ to give someone your all? Everything you had and ever will have? Three months ago, she didn't even know a Tom Collins (Other than the cocktail which her mother liked a lot but she thought had way too much alcohol in it to be appetizing) and wanted nothing to do with any boys; much less one in her town. Now she was…

"Mimi…I think I'm in love…" Angel whispered. "Oh my God…I'm in love with an anarchistic computer genius. And I am _completely_ okay with it."

"Eep! I'm soooo happy for you!" Mimi cried. The waiter appeared and handed her the bill, begging them with his eyes to please get out of the restaurant. Mimi huffed, picking up the bill and standing, pulling Angel to the counter to pay before they walked out of the restaurant. "So…are ya gonna tell him?"

"We're going slowly, Meems," Angel said. "How well do you think it's gonna go down if I run up to him, two months into the whole thing, and say, 'Oh my Gosh! I wuv you!'?"

"You never know…he might feel the same way."

Continuing down the street, Angel shook her head. "Baby steps, Mimi…"

* * *

"YOU WANT ME TO WHAT, TOM COLLINS?!"

Almightily cringing, Collins stared at his boyfriend from across her dining room table. Angel sat with all her homework laid out in front of her and a pencil clutched in her hand. Her face was contorted in horror and her pencil was only a few grams of pressure away from breaking. He took a deep breath, repeating what he'd just mentioned to Angel while discussing the meaning behind a Frost poem with her. "Uh…I'd like you to come to dinner this weekend at my house. Meet my parents…my sister…" he trailed off until he was simply mouthing words at the placemat in front of him.

There was a thump as Angel hit her head against the table. "Tooom…don't make me baby, please…they _won't like me_…"

Collins wound around the table, chuckling, and came to stand behind Angel's chair. He bent down, encircling Angel with his arms and kissed her neck, whispering, "Now who wouldn't like you, babygirl?"

"Your parents," she replied mournfully. "You haven't even told them you're gay. How are they going to deal with me of all people? Me; with the cross-dressing and the…uhg."

Suddenly, she was being pulled out of her chair and into those long, strong arms. He gently swayed her back and forth, dancing lightly around the room. "Angelcake, they will _love_ you…Just as long as you happen to be a girl when you meet them."

One eyebrow rose skeptically and Angel spun away, crossing her arms. "I dunno if that's the best idea there, Tom."

She'd taken to calling him by his first name almost as much as his preferred last and Collins liked the way she said it. She was the only one who called him Tom in their group and in his head it was the same as one of her special kisses; unique to her in a way which had no chance of being duplicated.

"I know how I'm gonna work this," Collins sighed, pulling her back to him. She put up a little fight but only half heartedly. "I'm gonna introduce you to them, and later, when they're all goin', 'What a nice girl…' I'm gonna be like, 'Oh, Angel's a guy…thought you knew?' and you won't be there when the blowup happens. How's that for you?"

"I really don't think that's gonna work," she mumbled into his shoulder.

A flash issued from behind them and Angel spun, noticing a moment too late her grandmother with a camera. Abuela chuckled, pulling out the Polaroid and placing it on the table. "Hello, Angel, Collins. How are you both today? I hope you don't mind me dropping in, Angel; I just wanted to see how my grandson was doing."

Blinking rapidly, Angel glanced between her grandmother and the Polaroid and rolled her eyes, stepping forward and hugging Abuela. "You come around at the weirdest times, Abuela. Mama's at work."

"You don't think I know this?" asked Abuela, chuckling. "What is wrong with wanting to spend time with my beautiful grandson?"

This was replied to with a giggle and a kiss to one wrinkled cheek before Angel hopped back and to the dining room table. "I've got homework to finish. Make yourself at home." She looked over at Collins. "I haven't given you my answer yet; we'll continue to talk about this later."

"Oh…what has he done?" Abuela questioned, chuckling over at Collins.

"Well, he hasn't _done_ anything per se," Angel murmured, going back to her English homework. "He wants me to meet his parents."

"You haven't done that yet?" Abuela muttered. "Hasn't it been two months already? Aren't you high schoolers fast-movers? I thought you had gone far beyond that…"

"Okay, first of all," a blushing Angel held up one finger. "ABUELA! Second, ABUELA! Third, there's a little issue concerning my gender that Collins' parents aren't exactly aware of." The glare which was shot across at Collins in that moment could have pealed the skin right off his face if he'd happened to be looking up at the time. "Basically, Collins hasn't told them he's gay…"

"Yeah, that's a conversation I'm really looking forward to, though," Collins sighed, reverting to his old fallback; sarcasm. "'Hey, guess what Mom and Dad? I like dick! Not only do I like dick, but I happen to like it hidden in skirts!' Yeah, that's gonna go over _real_ well."

A crumpled up yellow flyer made contact with Collins' head with a hiss of, "My grandmother is standing _right there_!" and he picked it up, tossing it back.

"Just please think about it, baby!"

"You think about it; then I'll think about it," was the bargain Angel proposed. Collins agreed with a roll of the eyes. "Great. You'll see it my way, pumpkin, I guarantee it."

Abuela flashed another picture; this time, of the grotesque face Collins pulled in response to being called pumpkin.

Watching her grandmother interact with her boyfriend like he was another member of the family, Angel sighed and glanced down at the table. She knew Collins wanted that for her with his family, too. But she was almost certain things weren't going to turn out the way they had been so carefully planned in Collins' head. With a loud thump, Angel slammed her head into her history book and groaned, "These are _not_ baby steps!"

* * *

"Hey, guys, could I talk to you for a second?"

Clayton and Suzan Collins glanced up when their son placed himself between them and the television. It was on the tip of Suzan's tongue to ask her son to wait until the end of Sixty Minutes, but something glinting in his eyes then caught her attention and the words lodged in the back of her throat. Instead, she nudged her husband, murmuring, "Sure, baby." Clayton didn't look happy about his television time being interrupted, but flicked the set off, full attention now on his son.

"Jess, go to bed," Grams commanded from the easy chair against the far wall of the living room, knitting something beige. "It's nearly an hour past your bedtime anyway, girl."

A loud whine rang around the room and Jessica hopping up, stamping her foot. "But Grams! Mama said I could stay up until Sixty Minutes went off!"

"I think it just did," Alberta retorted, giving her granddaughter a withering glare. Still pouting, Jessica stomped up the stairs, voiced pitched in a loud, constant whine which carried all the way through the house until her bedroom door slammed loudly shut behind her.

"Now, what do you want Tom?" Grams asked, turning back to face the rest of the room. Exchanging a look, they communicated wordlessly and both knew what he had to say.

"Uh…Well, I have something to tell you guys and don't freak out, okay?" This obviously was not the best way to start out. Both parent's eyes widened and Suzan sucked in a breath, stiffening as though expecting the worst. "Uh…just remember; it's not the end of the world, and I'm still your son and you should love me no matter what, right?" he chuckled nervously.

"Baby, just tell us," Suzan murmured. "It can't be that bad, can it?" her face betrayed her real feelings; apprehension contradicting her optimism.

"Okay…" he took a deep breath. "Mom…Dad…I'm gay."

Their eyes went wide and Collins shuffled around before them, biting his bottom lip. Then, hesitantly, he questioned, "Uh…just tell me one thing; do I still have a home?"

"Oh, Tom! Of course you do, baby…" Suzan sighed, standing up. She stepped forward and hugged her son tightly, murmuring, "Oh, my boy…"

Clayton stood stiffly and crossed his arms, eyeing his son, something Collins couldn't identify glinting from his eyes. Collins pulled back and stood in front of his dad. "Dad…I know you're probably…mad…"

"No, son," Clayton sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I'm not mad…just…shocked. Disappointed. Not in you but…myself."

Collins chuckled humorlessly, setting a hand on his dad's shoulder – he was nearly eyelevel with him now. "Dad, you can't blame yourself. Nothing you did caused this in me. I was most likely born this way; it was never a choice or a decision made by me or for me. It just…is."

Collins attempted to meet his father's eyes, but Clayton turned them down and that wounded Collins. Apparently, his sexual preference was being grudgingly accepted, and he figured that was all he could ask for but some part of him still wished they could be completely okay with it.

"Uh…and I also wanted you guys to meet my boyfriend, Angel," Collins mumbled, turning back to his mother, hoping her reaction would be a little more positive than his father's. Her eyes lit and she nodded, smiling.

"We'd love to," she said. Behind Collins' head, his father huffed and Suzan appeared to be staring him down. She must have won, because her face broke back into a smile and she added, "When?"

"Probably Saturday or Sunday," Collins replied. It was Thursday; only two days after his and Angel's conversation.

"I think that's doable," Suzan sighed, smiling. "I'll be looking forward to it. Clay?"

"Thought Angel was a girl," grumbled Clayton. In theory, Collins guessed, his homosexuality was okay. But maybe the idea of the actual thing being shoved in his father's face so soon was too much to handle.

"Yeah…no," Collins replied, shaking his head.

"Well, you should talk with him and make a definite date, and we'll go from there," Suzan finalized. She glanced over at Grams, whom had been completely silent the whole time, continuing to knit. "Alberta?"

Grams glanced up and smiled, informing, "I'll be very happy to meet your boyfriend as well, Tom," before looking back down at her knitting as though it was the most natural thing in the world for her to say.

"Well, it's settled," Suzan finalized, and sat back down. "Saturday or Sunday."

**

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End Chapter; TBC

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**

A/N: Oh yes…calm before the storm…*Evil laugh* MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AND YOU DON'T HAVE ANY IDEA OF WHAT I'M PLANNING!!! Yes…this will be fun…

OH! I finally got my phone back! YESSSSSSHHHHH! And my mommy made me an I'll Cover You ringtone! And a 'Who Are You' ringtone from The Who! Which is also the theme song to CSI!!

The part in the beginning with the stuff and Angel and Collins…Uhm someone tell me I didn't totally mess that up? I was trying to make it sound awkward and stuff! I hope you're okay with that! Was it good?! AHHH! I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT FROM YOU PEOPLE! YOU'RE SO MUCH DIFFERENT THAN THE CSI PEOPLE! Haha…yes, I'm insane…

Translations:  
"_Sí, oh Dios, por favor no parar…"_ Translates into: (Not that you couldn't get the gist of it…) "Yes, oh God, please don't stop…" *and, cue completely mortified blush* Yup…I'ma goin' to Hell…

Thanks so much to my Beta, **Marky's Scarfy**! *Flying-tackle-hugs* for without her I would have no feedback, probably several grammatical errors, and be without a hand to hold throughout the whole process because this is HARD!! :D Also, I stole one teeny tiny line from her; the "Do I still have a home?" line from up there, so yeah! That belongs to her!

*Holds out hands* Reviews, please! That little green button down there has gotten lonely. Keep it company. Review.

-Lynn


	9. Chapter 8: Dinner with the Collinses

A/N: Oh, haha! It's Tuesday! :D lol. I forgot until five minutes ago. I also just realized my update schedule coincides with my sister's karate schedule…huh. Weird.

The first part of this chapter originally supposed to be part of the last, but then it just got way long (7000-something words! Eep!) and I moved it. That's why the last chapter was so short compared to others. So hopefully this chapter will be more successful. Oh and there's a _Twilight_ reference in here, if anyone cares. See if you can find it. If you've read _Twilight_, that is. Actually, it's from _Eclipse _but whatever. Song of the week: Poker Face – Lady Gaga. THAT SONG HAS BEEN STUCK IN MY HEAD FOR EVER! LIKE, TWO WEEKS I AM SO NOT KIDDING! AND IT'S STILL UP THERE!

Disclaimer: Jonathon Larson (May he rest in peace) owns it all, and is wholly responsible to bringing this inspiring piece of genius to life! I do however own Jessica, but I'm not going to say I own Collins' parents, because after all, canon-Collins had to have parents, therefore I don't own them. I may own Grams. Not sure.

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* * *

Chapter 8: Dinner with the Collinses

* * *

**

"Okay, I really can't do this…"

Tugging Angel back in the direction he was going in for the fifth time that night, Collins sighed in irritation. "Angel…you're really starting to grind on my nerves here, girl. They're gonna love ya, I'm sure of it. My mom won't be able to get to know you fast enough and Grams has wanted to meet you."

"And your dad?" Angel questioned dubiously. He was decked out in a blue dress shirt and black slacks. Collins had just gotten his parents to accept his homosexuality; he didn't think it the best idea to unleash the whole Angel Dumott Schunard experience upon their minds just yet.

"He…_might_ take a little persuading."

At his admittance, Angel hissed something out under his breath which sounded suspiciously like, "I told you so…" and poked him in the side.

"But he's warming up the whole idea," Collins added. "And he's not gonna be outright rude or anything. Give my family some credit. You'll be fine, baby. Okay?"

Still playing the part of petulant child, Angel crossed his arms and stomped ahead, rounding the corner to Collins' house and making his way up the walk, perching on the porch to wait for Collins. The anarchist followed him and opened the door without the use of a key; his mother never locked it when expecting company. The smell of ground beef sizzling and many spices assaulted Angel's senses and he smiled; those scents were very familiar.

"Mom! I'm back! With the guest of honor." Angel blushed hotly.

Jessica came shooting out of the dining room and cried, "Hi! I'm Jessica and you're Angel, right? Yeah! My brother really likes you! He goes googly-eyed when I say your name around him and sometimes he says your name when he's sleeping and I know that because I have the room next to him and he says it reeeeally loudly. I think your name is really pretty and I like your – mllgnn!"

Collins had slapped his hand over his sister's mouth and quickly hissed at Angel, "Ignore her! Jessica can get a little excitable, can't you Jess?!" he chuckled nervously, pinching Jessica's cheek. "But she's a cute little thing!"

Jessica whined indignantly and licked Collins' hand, ducking under his arm and then took Angel's hand, beginning to drag him into the living room. Angel nearly fell over at the unexpected tug and had to try and stay upright using nothing but superior balance, not wanted to use Jessica's shoulder to catch himself on. This resulted in a lot of flailing which made Jessica giggle.

"C'mon; we're gonna go play dolls," Jessica told him, pulling him into the living room and sitting down in front of a large pink doll house, crossing her legs and patting the patch of carpet next to her. Angel grinned and sat down too, staring over everything with an air of sentimentality. The boarding house he'd spent the first eight years of his life in had had a huge doll house in the common room with about twenty dolls, all kept in pristine condition. He and Mimi would sit and play with them for hours, trapped in their own little world.

A little brunette, pink-dressed doll was placed in his hand and Angel smiled again, making its arm bend at the elbow. He held it up. "What's her name?"

"Ginger," replied the seven-year-old, picking out a blonde, blue-dressed doll for herself. "And this is Margaret." She waved the doll around and hugged it to her. "They're sisters and they live in the house together and this" she pulled out two male dolls and held up one; a red shirted one, "is Jacob; Margaret's husband. And this" a blue-shirted one, "is Nick; Ginger's boyfriend."

"And what are they doing?" Angel inquired while trying to get Ginger to stop slipping out of the chair he was trying to put her in.

"Nick and Ginger are getting married!" Jessica cried in delight, presenting to Angel a tiny white dress. "Here! You dress Ginger in that while I dress Margaret in her bride's maid's dress!"

"Diner's done!"

Obviously not shy in making her displeasure known, even in front of strangers, Jessica groaned loudly and stood up, tossing Jacob haphazardly to the ground but laying Margaret carefully in a bed on the uppermost floor. She turned to Angel and gestured for him to put down his dolls too. He carefully set both dolls in the house – one laying on the sofa and the other on the other bed – and followed the seven-year-old into the dinning room, shrugging at Collins when he gave him a 'look' upon entrance.

"You shouldn't encourage her," Collins murmured in Angel's ear as he sat in the chair pulled out for him. "She'll only get more annoying."

"I've never had a little sister," Angel remarked, smiling. "It could be fun."

Collins simply rolled his eyes and looked into his plate, which at the moment only held two empty taco shells. He blushed. "By the way – my mother seems under the impression that because you're Hispanic, you don't eat American food, so the meal has been specially prepared because of you."

"I'm honored," Angel replied.

"Jessica, baby, you wanna say grace?" asked Suzan, grabbing her husband's hand on one side and Collins' on the other. Collins gripped onto Angel's hand and on his left, Grams took Angel's other and smiled reassuringly at the nervous Latino.

Jessica nodded excitedly and bowed her head, saying, "Heavenly father, holy ghost, whoever eats the fastest gets the most, amen!"

Scandalized, Suzan reached across her husband to swat Jessica in the back of the head. She whined at her mother. "Jessica Anne! That is not a proper grace! Who taught you that?!"

Falsely innocent brown eyes locked onto Collins' and Jessica mumbled, "Tommy…"

"Of course," Suzan sighed, while Clayton chuckled and smirked at his son. With a quick glance at her husband, Suzan grumbled, "And don't think I don't know where _he_ got it from, Clayton Thomas."

Clayton simply boomed with laughter while his wife rolled her eyes and began building her taco. There were large bowls of meat, lettuce, and cheese, and a tub of sour cream sat next to a gravy boat that was filled with salsa. The ingredients were passed around to everyone. Collins made a face when the ground beef was shoved into his hands and his mother rolled her eyes. Laughing at his boyfriend's grotesque face, Angel pulled the bowl from him and spooned a generous amount into his taco shells.

Once everyone had taken a few bites of their completed tacos, the fun really began. Chatter quieted and the atmosphere suddenly became a bit thicker for Angel and he looked up to everyone staring at him. "I'm sorry? Did someone ask me something?"

"No, hun," Suzan replied, smiling. Said smile was friendly enough but something in it made Angel uneasy. He felt as though he had come to dinner only to realize he was the meal. "But I do want to ask you a few things. Do you mind?"

Angel shook his head, leaning over his plate to take another bite of his taco. "No, ma'am."

Wasting no time, Suzan immediately asked, "So, how old are you?"

"Sixteen, ma'am," Angel replied, "But I'll be seventeen in…it's the eighth, right? A little less than a month."

Satisfied with this answer, Suzan smiled and nodded. "Well, happy birthday if we don't see each other beforehand. What's your GPA? Just out of curiosity?"

A large groan emanated from Collins' throat and he banged his head into the heel of his hand, groaning, "Mo-o-om! Come on now!"

"Oh, Tom, don't," sighed Suzan, patting his hand. "It's just a question. I'm sure Angel doesn't mind answering, do you sweetheart?"

Not really sure if she liked this woman speaking for him or calling him nicknames usually reserved by his mother, Angel cleared his throat and said, "Uh…no, I don't mind. It's 3.7 as of the progress reports about two weeks ago…But that's only because I'm not that great with math and I forget my gym clothes a lot…"

"Honey, three-point _anything_ is higher than I _ever_ got in school!" Grams barked, patting his back and chuckling. Angel chuckled too and smiled, realizing that he didn't have to dazzle at least one person at the table.

"What about your interests?" Clayton put in friendlily. "What do you hope to do in life? Do you have any plans for college?"

"Uhm…not so much, yet at least," Angel replied, ripping his napkin up in his lap. Collins noticed and covered his hands, rubbing a thumb over his palm comfortingly. "I'm very interested in fashion, though. So I was thinking maybe an arts school in the city. Not sure of its name but it's a good school. It can get you places."

"Angel's only a junior," Collins reminded, hoping to bring the attention away from Angel's schooling. For all they knew, Angel might not be able to go to college; his family wasn't exactly made of money, and both he and his mom were surviving on a public school teacher's measly wages. "So he's got awhile before he's got to make any rock-hard decisions."

"Hm," Suzan hummed, raising a brow. But she didn't continue on the subject, not wanting to get on her son's nerves. Or Angel's, for that matter. "What about your mother and father? What do they do?"

"My mom teaches public school," Angel informed, "youth education, you know…preschool…first grade. Uh…my dad is back in Puerto Rico…he and my mom don't exactly get along…"

"Divorce?" asked Suzan in pity, putting on a sympathetic face. More and more people were getting divorced in their neighborhood; it seemed the latest trend.

Angel cleared his throat and took a sip of his water. "Uh…no, actually…they were never married…"

"Oh," Suzan mumbled, furrowing her brows. "That's uhm…"

Angel half-smiled, half-grimaced and nodded, looking back towards his plate. The awkwardness was back.

A jingling rang from down the hall all the way into the living room and Angel glanced around for the source of it, when something rubbed against his legs and he stiffened, glancing at Collins out of the corner of his eye. Pulling a face, Collins reached under the table and grabbed onto Daisy's collar, pulling her out from under, scolding, "Bad dog, you know you're not allowed in the dining room when people are eating…"

"Um…Col-,"Angel sneezed ferociously from next to him, and Collins looked up, something swimming back to his memory.

"Oh, shit," Collins mumbled, standing up and dragging the dog away and into the basement. He told her to stay and walked back upstairs, locking the baby gate behind him. Daisy immediately began whining. He arrived back in the dinning room to see Angel gone and his parents looking worried.

"He went outside to get some air," Suzan revealed, frowning. "Why didn't you tell me he's allergic to dogs? There's hair all over this house; I would have cleaned better if I knew…"

"It's a very mild allergy and Daisy was _supposed _to be downstairs," Collins mumbled, glaring at his sister, who looked guiltily down at her plate. "So it shouldn't have affected him, because he doesn't react to the hairs on my clothes…I'll go see if he's okay."

Suzan pointed to the sliding door which led to the patio and he nodded, walking through the living room and stepping out onto the chilly night. Angel was standing towards the far edge of the patio, taking large breaths of fresh air and sneezing every few breaths.

"You okay?" Collins asked, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist. Angel nodded and sneezed once again, turning his head away as not to catch Collins. "I'm sorry about that, Ang…I didn't know that God-forsaken dog would be upstairs. Is it a contact allergy?"

Angel nodded, pulling up the sleeve of his shirt and revealing a red rash. Collins hissed through his teeth.

"I'll be fine in the morning; it only gets really bad if I'm around them for a long time…" Angel mumbled, pulling his sleeve back down. "Tell your parents I'm sorry for being rude."

"I don't think they mind," Collins scoffed, running a finger over Angel's cheek. He let out something akin to a purr and turned his face into Collins' shirt.

Angel stopped sneezing eventually and they walked back inside to eat their dinner, the rest of which was waded out in an awkward silence; Angel for having created such a scene, and the Collinses for their dog having been the cause of it.

Clayton stood abruptly and picked up his empty plate, carrying it to the sink and rinsing it out. He turned back around, making eye contact with his son. "Tom, you done eating? Great. Mind coming with me?"

Collins furrowed his brows and stood, setting his plate in the sink before following his father to his study. Clayton took a seat in one of the plush chairs in the room and gestured for Collins to take the other. They stared each other down for several minutes before Clayton sighed, "I have to admit; I was expecting much worse. I actually like your boyfriend."

"Her-his name is Angel," Collins grumbled, praying his father didn't catch his slip up. He was just too used to referring to Angel as 'her'.

Apparently he noticed nothing because he continued. "Yes. Angel is very nice and I can see you're very good for each other." Obviously, this was taking a monumental effort and Collins appreciated this information. "I have to ask though, son…After seeing you two tonight…do you maybe have more feelings for him than you're letting on?"

"What do you mean?" Collins asked, crossing his arms and frowning.

"I don't think you realize it…but…" Clayton sighed, telling Collins he was still very much uncomfortable talking about this subject. "When you shift or change your position, or him his, you kind of adjust to fit the other's new position…like you're magnets or something."

Not feeling completely comfortable himself, Collins said, "We've always been like that…I mean…he can kind of hang off me at times and it can get annoying and then I'll tell him to back off, but sometimes I'll move around and he'll move around just to get comfortable again or…I dunno so he can hear or see me better…It's nothing big; it doesn't mean anything."

"But…even when you're not touching," Clayton emphasized. "You just…_lean_ towards each other like if you're too far away something will happen…like something'll rip open and jump out of a vortex or something."

Collins laughed. "And you say I'm imaginative."

"Okay, okay, I can see you're not gonna take this seriously, so let's move on to the other subject I wanted to discus with you." Immediately, Clayton began radiating embarrassment and nervousness and Collins knew nothing good could come of this. "Are you – I mean, have you and Angel – Uh…"

Collins gestured for his father to just spit it out, giving him a prompting nod. "Yeah…?"

"I guess I'm trying to ask if you and Angel have had sex?" asked Clayton and Collins recoiled in horror.

"NO!" he cried. "And how is that _any _of your damned business?!"

"I'm your father, Tom, I deserve to know these things," Clayton sighed. "And you have to admit, this would be about five-hundred thousand times worse with your mother."

Nothing being able to argue with that, Collins nodded reluctantly.

"So you haven't?"

"No; definitely not."

"Would you tell me if you had?" Clayton asked doubtfully.

"Yes," Collins replied immediately. He received a look and bit his lip. "Okay maybe not – but it depends. Why do you want to know?"

"Well, he's sixteen," Clayton sighed. "And you're seventeen, and technically, the age of consent in New York is seventeen and until Angel reaches that age, if you've been engaging in any sexual act…you can technically be accused of statutory rape."

Collins sat back, stunned. "But that doesn't count if you're only like a year apart…right?"

"No, no…it counts, believe me," Clayton sighed. He was an accountant at a law firm; if there was anyone in that house you could trust with legal advice, it was Clayton Collins. "All I'm asking is you wait until a_fter_ Angel's seventeenth birthday, okay?"

Collins nodded dumbly. "Yeah…Now that you put it that way…" he blinked.

Clayton stood and nodded, patting Collins' shoulder. "It's getting late. You should get Angel home. He's a good boy; I…I'm happy for you, Tom."

The teen sat there for several minutes after his father left, before a smile slowly snaked its way onto his face. Everything was good. His family liked Angel…Angel's family liked him…things couldn't get better.

* * *

"Okay, I'll admit; that wasn't as bad as I was picturing," Angel admitted as Collins walked him home half an hour later. Collins had taken off the top of his typical many layers of clothing – today, they were a sports jacket over a sweater vest over a blue dress shirt – and draped it over Angel's shoulders when the Latino had complained of being cold. "I mean, the world didn't end, I guess. And your family was really nice…I think your father even liked me. Your sister was…"

"Evil?"

"…_Interesting to deal with_," Angel edited, slapping his shoulder. "She was very energetic and…loud. But…she was fun, too, I guess. She reminded me of Maureen a bit. It is worse that I'm comparing Maureen to a seven-year-old or a seven-year-old to Maureen?"

"I don't think either would care," Collins replied, gripping his hand and swinging it back and forth as they walked. "And I'm really sorry again about the dog."

Shrugging, Angel mumbled, "No big deal…" and glanced down at his shoes. "So…uh…what did your dad want to talk to you about? Or am I not allowed to know?"

"Uh…we were talking about you, actually," Collins replied, but gave Angel a reassuring smile when he glanced up at him, worried. "He thinks you're really great, Ang. He _also_ gave me a lecture about not seducing you until you're of age, and ranted about…well, I'm not really sure. I think he was _trying_ to say we're too synchronized for our own good but I'll never be sure. My dad's a weird dude."

"Oh, that's right," Angel said, adding a little bounce into his next step and letting a grin sneak its way onto his face. "Right now, the state of New York technically considers you a pedophile. I'm sorry about that. What does that make me? A slut?"

"Nothing but a pawn in my perverse game," Collins replied, kissing his cheek. "But; good news! I'm only the evil one for another month. Then, we're on even turf. Ain't that great, Ang?"

"Amazing," Angel agreed, smiling. "This is great, though. Your family likes me, my family _loves_ you, and we have a bunch of totally great friends who couldn't give less of a fuck where we stick our–"

"Angel!"

"Tongues," Angel giggled. "We're probably the luckiest gay couple in the tri-county area! There is nothing standing in our way!"

"Except, you know," Collins mumbled. "The HIV and my apparent pedophilia and the fuckers at school and…"

"Okay, okay," Angel said, wincing. "I get your point, negative-Nelly – but…other than all that stuff. We're doing pretty well for ourselves."

"Speaking of the HIV," Collins sighed, squeezing Angel's hand. "I'm gonna go pick up my results tomorrow." Collins had gotten his tests done at the free clinic and chose to not have them mailed to him, for risk of his mother finding them before he did.

"I'll come along," Angel replied, squeezing back. "You shouldn't be alone if…"

"The news isn't good," Collins finished for him.

Angel hummed his agreement. "But…Let's just tell ourselves the news won't be bad, huh?"

"You see, this is why I love ya, Ang," Collins said, swinging an arm around Angel's shoulders. Angel giggled and snuggled into him. "You're always so positive – no pun intended – and sun-shiny and you just brighten everyone's day."

Silence as Angel thought about this, then, "You mean that? That you love me?"

"Well, yeah," Collins replied, chuckling. "You're like…the best thing that's happened to me yet, and it's pretty much impossible _not_ to love you, babygirl." Inside, he nervously told himself that wasn't what Angel meant and he knew it, but he just didn't want to breach that subject without Angel's say-so, and he wasn't sure he was getting it or if it was just a question.

"You know what I mean," Angel breathed, halting on the sidewalk and spinning to stare into his eyes. The heels were an advantage, Collins realized; when Angel was wearing them, neither of them had to crane their necks to see into the other's eyes. "Please…tell me and be serious about it."

The air suddenly became thick, making it difficult for him to draw breath. With Angel standing there, pressed tightly into his body, full lips parting unconsciously a few millimeters and sparkling, brown, expressive eyes open wide. His hands – large for the gender he tried to portray and callused from his drumsticks, making them one of the only things on his body which didn't ooze femininity – gripped tightly onto Collins' sweater. Collins brought a hand up and ran it across his cheek, and Angel turned his head into his palm for a few seconds before the hand went away and trailed to the back of his neck, urging him to look back up. Collins tried several times to speak, but the words were lodged in his throat. Finally, he just leaned down and kissed Angel, murmuring into his lips, "Yes. I meant every word."

Angel gasped and clamped a hand onto the back of Collins' head, pulling him closer. "I love you too. I can't believe it."

"What?" Collins murmured, wiping a fallen tear from Angel's cheek.

"This is just too perfect," Angel whispered, leaning his head against Collins' shoulder. "I just feel kind of like…something's gotta give. Like…Tell me what I did to deserve you?"

"Just as soon as you tell me what _I_ did to deserve_ you_," Collins replied.

Angel glanced up, grinning. "Maybe we pissed someone off in a past life and they decided to stick us together forever. See if we'd drive each other crazy."

"Together for all eternity," Collins chuckled, caressing Angel's cheek once again. "I like the sound of it. But I think you'll find I'm already crazy, Miss Angel; I'm crazy about you."

"You're being really corny again."

"I know."

* * *

"Bored, bored, so bored…"

Mimi moaned from Roger's couch, where she was hanging off the cushion. She kicked her legs pathetically and stared at Roger upside-down. He examined her amusedly from where he was strumming his new acoustic guitar on the floor of the living room. His mom was at work; she worked nights and had to go in early that day.

"Not my problem," Roger remarked, smirking as Mimi's face slowly turned red from all the blood rushing to her head.

"Well, I'm making it your problem," Mimi replied, sitting right-side-up on the couch. Once her blood was all back where it was supposed to be, she crawled across the floor and tugged Roger's guitar out of his hand, setting it on the floor beside them before plopping in his lap and cuddling up to him.

"Hey!" Roger cried mockingly, twirling a piece of her hair. "Who do ya think you are, barging in between me and my guitar?"

Mimi giggled. "Your girlfriend – that's who I think I am. And you'll probably agree that I'm right. If you want both of your balls in the morning, that is."

"Okay, I get your point," Roger agreed. "Uh…we could play Monopoly."

Mimi made a noise of refusal in her throat.

"You could help me write a half-way decent song," Roger said, holding up a new notebook, which barely had anything written in it.

"I'm not good at that sort of stuff," Mimi mumbled, fiddling with his collar.

"We could…" Roger glanced about the room for inspiration and his eyes landed on a tiny baggie peaking out from his guitar bag. '_No, Roger…you don't want to pull her into that…but you never know? Maybe she'll…?_' "Hey…you wanna have some real fun?"

Mimi rolled her eyes. "Well, duh! That's why I'm asking you!"

"Come here," he murmured, pulling her up and grabbing his guitar case, sitting it on one of the kitchen counters and pulling out the baggie. Mimi pulled herself up onto another cabinet and furrowed her brows when he shook it in her face. "Know what this is, Meems?"

"Not really," she replied, reaching out for it. Roger tugged it away and walked over to the silverware drawer, pulling out a spoon.

"Ever done anything like Marijuana?" Roger asked, pulling a syringe, a rubber piece of rubber tubing which he used as a make-shift tourniquet, and a lighter.

"Angel and I do it every once in a while," Mimi replied, staring at all the gathered supplies in confusion. "What's all this stuff?"

"Well this," Roger said, shaking the bag. "Feels like what you've done, times five thousand. It's some good stuff."

Mimi grinned, tilting her head to the side. She'd always liked the feeling Marijuana had given her; taking away all her cares and replacing it with a nice slowness which calmed her down and enabled relaxation in her; especially when she was stressed. "Okay…well how do we do it?"

Roger put the powder from the bag into the spoon and picked it up, holding the lighter under it. Once it bubbled, he dribbled it into the syringe. "You inject this into a vein. Are you afraid of needles?"

"No," Mimi murmured.

Roger put the syringe down and picked up the rubber band, asking Mimi to hold out her arm and wrapping it around her upper arm. He then slapped her forearm as a doctor would a newborn baby's bottom, and like a newborn, Mimi cried out indignantly. "Ow! What was that for?"

"It makes the vein inflate," Roger replied, tapping at the syringe a few times. "Now make a fist."

Mimi did so and several veins popped out in her arm. Roger placed the needle over one and murmured, "Ready?"

Mimi nodded. "Uhuh."

With a little pressure, Roger sunk the needle into her arm, and pushed down on the plunger, shooting the heroin into her veins.

* * *

"Hi, I'm Thomas Collins and I'm here for my HIV blood test results?"

The nurse behind the reception desk at the Scarsdale Clinic looked up over her half-moon glasses at the two teens standing before her; one tall, African American and male, the other slightly shorter, Hispanic and female. She nodded, reaching into her in box and searching around until she found the right envelope out of the about ten she received to hand back each day, and held it out to the boy, who took it and glanced at the girl, before taking her hand and leading her to a couch in the deserted waiting room.

"Ang, you gotta promise me something okay?" Collins said as he slid the paper out of the envelope.

"Yeah?" Angel breathed, looking up at him from the paper which she hadn't let leave her sight since the nurse had handed it to Collins. She had some irrational fear of something horrible happening if she didn't keep it in her sights.

"If…if the results aren't good," Collins murmured, flipping open one flap. "Please don't blame yourself, okay? And we'll get through it, right?"

"Right," she agreed and Collins took the other flap, flipping it up. He sighed, sitting back and rubbing his eyes, handing the paper off to a semi-panicking Angel. She gripped it tightly in her hands and glared down at it, zeroing her eyes in on the top of the paper.

**Name:** Collins, Thomas B.  
**Date of Birth:** January 18, 1973  
**Blood type:** O+  
**Results for HIV Blood Test: **Negative

Angel let out a sigh of relief and let the paper flutter to the ground, grabbing onto his shirt and burying her face in his shoulder. "Oh_, __¡gracias a Dios!_"*

A bit of moisture soaked through Collins' sweater and he kissed the crown of Angel's head murmuring, "Babygirl, don't cry…everything's gonna be fine now, okay?"

Angel nodded, sniffing a bit. "I'm just…so relieved."

"I know, I know," Collins hushed, kissing her temple. "I am too.

"I'm just wondering…" Angel mumbled. "Why you'd want to…put yourself in danger like this? I mean…one slip up; one moment of unawareness…it could ruin your life."

"Has it ruined your life?" Collins asked, cocking one eyebrow. Angel shrugged. "No, right? Well, I wouldn't let it ruin my life either. And, baby…you _are_ my life now, okay?"

"How could all of this happen so quickly?" Angel murmured. "And right now? Isn't love supposed to wait until…I dunno…college at least?"

Collins laughed. "I don't think so. Love doesn't know an age or a time. I don't think when you turn eighteen your mind says, 'Oh, great! I can fall in love now!'. I'm pretty sure we all have a capacity to…love intimately most of our mature lives. And some people just don't choose to act on it until later."

"I get it," Angel giggled, "that whole 'meant to be' thing again?"

"You've gotta admit we're a pair," Collins pointed out.

"We are," Angel agreed, grinning.

"C'mon," Collins said standing and pulling Angel up as well. He started towards the door but Angel pulled on his hand.

"Where're we going?" Angel giggled, furrowing her brows.

"Anywhere," Collins whispered. "Don't ya realize, Ang? We've got our whole lives ahead of us! Sky's the limit!"

"I'd like to graduate before we make a visit to the clouds," Angel informed.

"Okay, I'll allow that," Collins replied. "But come on! Let's just be free for one day!"

Angel giggled and followed the man she'd follow anywhere.

**

* * *

End Chapter; TBC

* * *

**

A/N: Ew. That sucked. Seriously; did you guys like that at, like, all? Didn't think so.

The next chapter just won't come to me right now but I will push on through!

BTW – Jessica's grace is dedicated to my Great Grandmother who got in real trouble for saying that when she was living in the Masonic home in Kentucky when she was six. :D She had to eat in the kitchens for a long time as punishment and I thought that was just hilarious! Love ya, Grandma! *kiss, kiss, big hug*

Translations:  
_¡gracias a Dios!_ Translates into: "Thank God!"

The next chapter will be a tiny bit Mark centric at first, then it'll fad into Thanksgiving and, yay! Another Schunard family catastrophe! Be looking forward to it, everyone!

Finally, thanks to the lovely Katie (**Marky's Scarfy**) for beta'ing. This story would have grammatical errors up the freakin' wazoo if it wasn't for her. (What's a wazoo…:P?)

-Lynn


	10. Chapter 9: Thanksgiving

A/N: I've been agonizing over what to do for this chapter for ever, and I finally just decided to attack it head-on and see where it takes me! So I hope you guys enjoy this and I love you all for reading and being such good people and your reviews! You are all sent straight down from the heavens! :D

Song of the week: See You Again, Miley Cyrus. Yeah, I know. I know. Oh, and something that amused me this week:

I'm surfing YouTube, watching I'll Cover You for the fifteen hundredth time (My aunt had my copy of the DVD this week. I almost died of RENT deprivation.) And someone on YouTube is like: "Wait…so that Angel girl is a he?!" and everyone's like… "Hehe…yeah…hehe…" and you can just tell they're thinking: "Who's the newbie? Have we made him see the light? Will he join our numbers?" I mean, at least I was but I'm severely disturbed so maybe not!

Disclaimer: I own absoloutly nothing! Jonathon Larson (May he rest in peace) owns the whole thing and is responsible for bringing this whole thing to life! The characters will be restored to their original conditions and put back in the toy box when I'm done playing. I might keep Roger for a while, though… ("No molesting Roger, Lynn!") Fine, fine, fine! Roger goes back too! I OWN THE SONG, THOUGH! I wrote it special for this story! It sucks.

**

* * *

Chapter 9: Thanksgiving Nightmares

* * *

**

_Diiiiiiiing…Doooooong…_

It took a few seconds for Roger to realize that the chiming that was echoing around the garage wasn't coming from one of the instruments. When this revelation struck him, he stopped belting out the lyrics to the song they were currently playing and ceased the strumming of his guitar, which in turn had Jared and Tony both whining at him for messing them up while Angel's drumsticks clattered out of his hands and he let out that famous Angel Enraged-Guinea-Pig-Squeak-of-Complete-Agitation. The doorbell rang again, twice in quick succession this time and Roger felt safe in thinking that the person on the other side of the door was getting impatient with him.

He told the others to go on without him, which made them all give him strange looks – you weren't much of a band without your lead vocalist – as he walked out of the garage, through the mudroom, and down he entrance hall. He flung the door open and blinked when Mark hit him in the chest with a fist raised for a knock. Mark, after three or four taps, realized that his impatient pounding wasn't sounding against wood and pulled his hand back. "Hi. Mind if I spend the afternoon here?"

This was common; Mark would either be incredibly bored durring the day or Roger would have another one of his I'm-so-lonely episodes and they would end up spending the day together at one of their houses. Mark had brought his camera with him – duh – and already had it out. He smiled, obviously trying to make his offer of company more appealing.

"Uh…you know I wouldn't any other day but the band is over today," Roger said, frowning. In the past, Mark had not liked sitting in on the practices his band would have. The first incarnation of the band (Self-titled Roger Davis) had included only himself and Jared. Along with them had been a boy from the next town over they met at Sylvia's Pizza Parlor one day, and April, who doubled as the keyboardist and drummer. Seth, the previous bassist, had decided (or rather his mother had, as she was the one who drove him into Scarsdale every Saturday) around March of the past year that the thirty-mile commute was just too long and quite. Then April had left and Roger and Jared had attempted to continue on. Jared took up keyboard and turned out quite talented at it, but again you weren't much of a band with a vocalist, two guitarists, and a keyboardist. In any case, Mark had always made the practices miserable for all involved, with whines about his head beginning to hurt and complaints about the rawness of the music almost as loud in the air as the vocals. Their style had changed a bit, thanks to the induction of Tony and Angel, but it would still probably bother Mark, whom got a headache from listening to even the Beatles for too long.

"That's okay," Mark insisted, pushing past him and into the house. "I don't mind."

"You had another fight with your mom, didn't you?" Roger asked, giving up without much fight and shutting the door behind them, tailing Mark into the garage. Though Mark knew two out of the three people congregated in the room, he still made the introduction: "Mark, the band; the band, Mark."

Angel waved with a drumstick, Jared whooped, "Mark, my main man! What's up?!" and Tony just gave a nod of acknowledgment, and stayed to the far side of the room, feeling like the outsider of the group for once.

"So, fight?" Roger asked, draping himself over the couch with his new guitar, named Charlotte soon after being received. "How bad was it? One-to-ten scale, how much destruction, any casualties?"

"Pretty bad," sighed Mark, plopping down on an ancient-looking cardboard box, which proceeded to give way under his weight and pitch him into what must have been a two-foot pile of dust. Everyone laughed but Tony, who didn't really think he had a right to laugh at this stranger he'd known for all of two minutes. But he did hide an amused grin behind his hand until his facial expressions were under control. Angel got up and tugged him out of the box, suggesting he sit on something that wasn't about twenty years old. He perched on the arm of Roger's plaid sofa. "Ten on the Hannah-scale. She totally freaked out at me because I told Cindy where to go, then I just told her I'd get out, and she literally threw my camera at me and told me to get the fuck out…so I got the fuck out. Don't worry, she'll be calling back in two hours begging forgiveness." He rolled his eyes and took to examining his finger nails as if they were the most interesting things he'd ever laid his eyes on.

"Ah, the enjoyment of parental rebellion," sighed Jared, clapping Mark on the shoulder. "Too bad my mom doesn't give a fuck."

"My mom gives too much of a fuck," Mark grumbled, placing his new camera in front of his face. Jared, always ready for a candid, grinned and hopped into the view of the camera, but Mark didn't turn it on, glancing at Tony. "Do you mind?"

Tony shook his head, making his face indifferent, "Nope."

There was a beep as Mark turned his camera on and he announced, "November twentieth, 1989. Roger's garage. This is just a band practice. You'll recognize Angel, the drummer, and maybe even Jared, the backup guitarist and keyboardist. Tony, however, is a new addition. Tell us about yourself if you wouldn't mind, Tony."

Tony looked up, blinked. "Uh…I'm Tony DeComilio and I'm Italian and I play bass and…uh…I like the color mint green…?"

"Oh, that's a nice color," Mark chirped, then immediately wondered at his reaction. He cleared his throat while the rest regarded him with a strange look and said, "Okay, thanks Tony. Uh…So, guys…what are we doing?"

"Practice," Angel said, holding up his sticks. "Or have we stopped that for the Albino Pumpkin Head?"

Mark rolled his eyes; Angel had taken up his boyfriend's annoying nickname for him. "Collins is a bad influence on you, Angel."

"Prove it," Angel replied, pointing a drumstick at him. "I happen to think it's a very positive effect." He stared into a far off corner of the garage and proceeded to zone out. Groans rang around the garage, obviously reactions to Angel's dreamy face, and Tony grumbled, "He's at it again!"

Jared struck a sour note on his guitar and screamed, "ANGEL! WAKE UP! NAP TIME IS LATER, DUDE!"

Angel jerked out of his reverie and blushed at the glares from three-fourths of the rest of the room, before distracting himself by tapping his drumstick against a snare drum. It was obvious he would like everyone to forget the last two minutes ever happened, and they did, but not before Jared declared Angel a bio-hazard, claiming he was, "Too mushy, gooshy, and down-right pathetic to be within close range of normal humans."

"You're hilarious," Angel told him, throwing a drumstick. It went wide and caught Roger's ear.

"Are we playing, or not?!" Roger grumbled, stepping back in front of the microphone. Everyone situated themselves and Roger directed, "Colorless in four."

"One, two, one-two-three-four," Angel said, knocking his drumsticks together. The guitars started the song off, and soon added to the addition of the lower tones of the bass. Angel started off a steady beat and the instruments all quieted when Roger stepped up to the mic and began to sing;

"_You were my sun, my moon, my light  
__You centered me  
__My anchor, my earth…  
__Now there's nothing left but spinning circles  
__Confusing spirals,  
__Patterns control my mind,  
__No meaning, no morals…Colorless."_

Mark sighed, falling back into the couch much to the protest of the springs, and focused in on the ceiling, mumbling, "Yet more Roger-angst about April…in song form, this time. And he's dragged his band into it now, too. It's poetic. Almost enough to override the pathetical."

"It's actually about being high," Jared mumbled to him out of the corner of his mouth, "after April. That first time after she left."

"Oh, well," Mark said, sighing at the camera. He spun the thing around, zooming in on all the faces. First Jared, alternating between keyboard and guitar, his braces shining in the lighting and swinging his main of blond hair back and forth. Then Roger, nearly screaming into the microphone. Tony, furiously strumming his guitar. Angel, banging energetically on the drums.

Five songs later, Mark's head began to bang almost as ferociously as Angel's drums and he figured out why; the throbbing in his head was perfectly in tune with every hit to the bass drum. Durring a water break – playing music apparently broke out a sweat? – Tony tossed him a bottle of Aspirin and a pack of twelve pairs of disposable earplugs. He pointed to his own, shoved deep in his ears, and smiled suggesting, "If you ever plan on hanging out with Roger's band ever again, those are a necessary piece of equipment. You can keep those, I don't need them back. I'll need the painkillers back, though. I can feel a headache coming on, too."

Mark nodded dumbly, opening the earplugs and managing to send them flying everywhere. The majority flew in his face and one even landed in his mouth when he let out a surprised gasp. He spit it out quickly and it rolled across the floor, gathering dust as it went.

"Wouldn't use that one," Tony asserted, nudging it hard with his toe and sending it flying across the room. He grinned at Mark, holding up his water bottle. "Want some to take that with?"

Mark shrugged and held out his hand for the bottle, which Tony slapped into his hand before plopping onto the couch beside him. Mark scooted away from him a bit – their thighs were touching and that was a bit uncomfortable for him – and chugged the water and pills before shoving the bottle back in his hand and literally clinging to the arm of the couch. He suddenly felt a bit too warm and he wondered if asking Roger if there was a window he could open was a bad idea.

There were only about twenty minutes of playing left before everyone packed up and Jared hightailed out of the garage, apparently expecting his mother to exhibit homicidal rage upon him if he wasn't home within the half hour. Angel stuck around for a few minutes, listening to the customary post-practice review Roger gave them, until it was obvious he'd rather be somewhere other than the hot garage and Roger released him, yelling after the retreating Latino that he'd better show up at Tony's the following Saturday. After that, it was only Mark, Tony, and Roger.

"Hey, Mark," Tony said slowly, poking his shoulder. Mark looked up at the Italian. "Could I ask you something?"

"Shoot," Mark replied, waving his hand at him.

"Would you mind…going someplace?" Tony asked, nervously. "You know? With me? On a date?"

Mark furrowed his brows and took a second to comprehend what Tony was saying, then his eyes widened and he waved his hands quickly around. "Oh, Tony…I'm not gay. I'm sorry."

"Oh…that's okay," Tony said, not looking extremely disappointed. "I mean…I'm not either…I'm bi. But…I just thought…"

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine. Don't worry. I'm not gonna go off in some homophobic tangent on you. I'm friends with Angel, remember? Now that's flamboyant if I ever saw it."

Chuckling, Tony slapped Mark's shoulder and sat back. "Alright, dude."

"Yeah…" mumbled the filmmaker, examining Tony's face. Suddenly, he didn't feel so sure of himself…

* * *

Thanksgiving at the Schunard residence never failed to be a production (Despite the absence of any American bloodlines) and this year was no different. Angel stood in the kitchen, helping her mother prepare the stuffing for the Turkey that was currently baking away in the oven. Delicious smells wafted throughout the room; that of sweet mixed with savory and tangy. Two pies (Pumpkin and apple) sat, long ago cooled, on the rack, homemade cranberry sauce chilled in a large bowl in the refrigerator, and Pillsbury crescent rolls baked in the toaster oven.

The potatoes were the only responsibility their guests would have. They were expecting a minimum of six guests; the entire Collins clan, plus Mimi and maybe her mother. But Lynda Marquez wasn't Marcella's favorite person in the world and the two women usually kept a wide birth of each other. That decision would be left up to Mimi.

First to arrive was Mimi, toting a large dish of yams, courtesy of the can and the microwave. She hurried them into the cooler, which had had its purpose reversed and was being used to keep completed dishes warm. It joined the green bean casserole atop the heated towels and Mimi hoped back into the kitchen and washed her hands so she could help Angel kneed the sausage and bread for the stuffing into one.

Once this was done, both Schunards rushed off to get ready; sweaty and dirty from cooking all day wasn't exactly the greatest way to greet guests. Mimi wandered around the living room she knew just as well as her own and put on a holiday album. Soft music from violins and clarinets traveled gently through the house, mixing with the smells and creating a truly festive air.

Angel hopped down the stairs in a white, V-neck tee-shirt with purple flower patterns going across her color bone, the black skirt she'd worn on her first date with Collins, and a pair of black nylons. Her shoes weren't as high as normal; maybe only three inches, but it still made her tower. She was going au naturale this evening (wearing an excess of make-up was uncomfortable and Angel was the first to admit it) and only put on a bit of sparkling lip-gloss. Mimi clapped for her outfit and sat in the family room with her, at the ready to greet the guests.

There was the sound of car doors slamming closed and Angel hopped up, opening the door to see Jessica hopping up the walk, way in front of her mother and father who weren't even out of the car yet. The seven-year-old was in what she could only guess was her Sunday best. It was a cute white halter top dress with an empire waist and lavender print embroidered into it. Her tights were white and her shoes a powdery violet. She looked completely adorable and flashed a smile complete with dimples when she laid eyes on Angel.

"Hi! Are you Angel's sister?!"

The little girl didn't seem to be able to grasp the idea of 'drag queen' and Angel didn't know whether to be more worried or relieved about this. The Collinses had known for a while about Angel, thanks to a little wooing Collins on Angel's part, but Jessica was still in the dark.

Angel knelt down before the girl and smiled, patting her arm. "No, hun. It's me; Angel."

Jessica blinked, rearing her head back in childish confusion. "Huh?"

"It's me," Angel sighed, pulling off her wig. "See? I'm just dressed up."

Jessica reached out and roughly ran a hand over Angel's natural hair, as though trying to make sure it was really there, then tugged her hand back and giggled. "But Tommy and Daddy don't dress up like that! Why're you in a dress?"

Angel giggled along with the little girl and responded, "This is the way I like to dress up. I think dresses are very pretty, so that's why I wear them. And personally," she leaned in closer "I think all the other boys are missing out. Skirts are a lot more comfortable than pants, aren't they, sweetie?"

Jessica giggled and bounced up and down as Angel stood and lead her into the house. Clayton and Suzan had entered around them as they were congregating on the porch, and Collins stood close by, amusedly watching his sister and boyfriend interact. Jessica quickly ran and jumped into his arms, and after assuring her that she was getting much too big to do that to her old, decrepit brother, he balanced her on his hip and carried her into the family room behind Angel.

Seeing little hors d'oeuvres on the table, Jessica struggled right back down from Collins' arms and picked up a mini quiche, popping it in her mouth.

"Well, I know who's going to be the entertainment value tonight," sighed Angel, plopping down and crossing her legs. She glanced at Collins and grinned, pecking his cheek. Mimi sat next to her and grinned like a maniac, mumbling, "¡_Ay, chica…mira eso! Él es azotado_!" Angel crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue and her Abuela grumbled, "Angel, that's ugly." *

Collins laughed and Angel dug her fist into his side a little too hard to be just a love-tap, though being subtle about it so neither of their parents saw. Collins replied to this by flicking her ear and she pinched his arm. He poked her and she poked him back, hissing, "Oh, it's _on,_ boy…"

This resulted in the two getting into a not-so-subtle tickle fight in the middle of the family room. Mimi and Jessica both joined in on the action and Abuela must have flashed twenty pictures. Angel kicked her legs out wildly as both Collins siblings attacked her, with Mimi trying to tug Collins towards her so she could torture him. Jessica gave Angel one last tickle before launched herself at Mimi, who caught her and fell back herself, laughing wildly.

"Okay, time to get off me," Angel sighed, bringing a knee up and nudging Collins in the ass. She kissed him before rolling out from under him and standing up.

Jessica frowned and stuck out her tongue. "Ew! Kissing! Angel, don't you know boys have cooties?!"

Angel shrugged. "Maybe your brother doesn't."

"EVERY BOY HAS COOTIES!" Jessica cried as though her every belief and hope had just been brought into question.

"Then I guess I have cooties, too," Angel finalized. "So it's okay because if I already have cooties, I can't catch them again."

"But…" Jessica screwed up her face. "You don't act like a boy. I don't think you have cooties."

"How about we just say no one has cooties, Jess?" Collins suggested around a mouthful of mini quiche. "Girls don't, guys don't, dogs don't…"

"Why would someone wanna kiss a dog, Tommy?"

"You'd be surprised, Jess…some people are sick…"

"Tom!" Suzan cried, covering her daughter's ears. "We're in mixed company, young man." She glanced about the room to see everyone in various states of hysteria.

"Oh, Mrs. Collins, we're very used to your son's antics around here," laughed Marcella, leaning towards Suzan from the armchair next to her and rubbing her shoulder. "I swear I see him just as much as I do my own son, now."

Suzan chuckled. "Oh, your son's been seen at our house a lot, too. He's a very good boy. And please, call me Suzan."

"And you call me Marcella," Marcella replied. "But just between you and me, you don't have to live with her! She has all the messy habits of a teenaged boy _and _the whininess of a teenaged girl! It's insane sometimes!"

"_Mamá, me estás avergonzando_!" Angel hissed. Marcella sighed at her son and replied, _"¿Qué, Angel, no estoy autorizado a socializar en su empresa?_"

"_Usted puede si usted no habla sobre mí_!"

"_Se le olvida, la miel. Yo soy la mamá, y yo para hablar de lo que quiero_."

Angel let out a groan worthy of every preteen girl who ever lived and mumbled, "_Collins, por favor, no juzgar sobre lo que me dice mi madre…ella se entusiasma cuando está en estrecha qauters con personas que no están conmigo y la abuela_." **

"_T__engo un gato en mis pantalones,_" Collins replied. Angel stared at him strangely.

"Excuse me?"

"That's all the Spanish I know," Collins said, grinning. "So please, speakid de English."

"You just told me you have a cat in your pants," Angel informed.

"I know."

A beeper went off somewhere and Suzan looked up. "I think your Turkey's done, Marcella."

"Not the Turkey," mumbled Angel, slipping out of the room. She walked back in a few seconds later and handed her mother her pill tin and a glass of water. "It's your's, Mama."

Marcella thanked her son and tipped one of the familiar white capsules into her hand and gulped it down with some water. Suzan crossed her arms and glanced at Angel, before glancing back at Marcella. It was obvious she had several questions she desperately wanted answered, but her husband beat her to the punch, asking, "Angel never told us you have HIV, Marcella." He'd recognized the pills as something an HIV-positive coworker took at various times of the day.

"Well, it's not really something that comes up in regular conversation, is it?" Angel grumbled darkly. Collins patted her thigh and she leaned into him.

Marcella nodded. "I do. Angel does too."

Angel gasped and stared at her mother, shooting up off the sofa. "MAMA! _No_ _puedo creer que usted! ¿Cómo puedes decir eso? Es personal_!"

Marcella regarded her son solemnly, with someone akin to reprimand in her stare. "_Alguien_ _tenía que decirles. Debería haber sido usted_."

"_Yo no estaba a punto de decirle que podía infectar a su hijo con una enfermedad mortal_!" Angel cried vehemently. Mimi and Collins both stood and Mimi whispered something to Angel, who nodded and sat down.***

"You should have been more responsible, Angel," Marcella murmured. "They should know these things. You know that. I shouldn't have been the one that had to tell them this." Angel's eyes glowed with fire and she shot up again.

"RESPONSIBLE?! RESPONSIBLE?!" she shrieked, bordering on hysteria. "_You_ should have been more responsible, Mama, you! I'm not the one who got herself pregnant AND infected with HIV at age seventeen! Don't even talk to me about _responsible_!"

"Angel!" Abuela cried, holding her hands out. "Stop yelling!"

Angel shook her head, backing up slowly and quickly turned and ran out of the room. Marcella winced, ready for the slam of her bedroom door. The slam came, but from a much heavier door and Marcella realized a moment too late that her son had ran out the front door.

Suzan bit her lip, realizing she'd probably just witnessed a family blow-up the likes of which hadn't yet been observed in this house. "Uh…Clay. I think me, you, and Tom need to talk about some things."

Clayton stood and nodded, looking at Marcella. "Is there somewhere where we can talk, Marcella?"

"My den," Marcella murmured, biting her lip as she continued to stare at the spot where she'd last seen her son. "You're welcome to it."

The Collins family, minus Jessica, whom had hopped into Mimi's lap and was questioning her on various things, made their way down the hall to Marcella's den and congregated there in a loose circle, Alberta in a chair. Clayton looked at Collins and with one glance in his father's eyes and it was obvious what would have to go down this night.

"No," he refused, flatly.

"Tom…" Suzan murmured. "He's so nice and I wish it was different…I wouldn't wish that on anyone in the world. And least of all my own son! It's just…not safe for you to consciously be in a relationship with someone who has what Angel does. It's…"

"Oh, so it would be better if Angel's hadn't told me?" Collins asked.

"What I want to know is why he didn't tell you before you stared dating," Clayton growled, and it was obvious Angel had just taken a complete nose-dive on his favorite people meter.

"That's because she didn't know!" Collins practically growled at his father. "God, if you would listen for five minutes!"

"Tom, see it our way, please baby," Suzan murmured. "I don't think I could handle it if you…"

"Yeah, and neither could Angel," Collins said, crossing his arms. "She would beat herself up so bad over it. We're being safe. I've already told dad that we're not doing anything right now. We're waiting. And when the time comes for that, we'll be safe. We're not completely stupid like your stereotype of a teenager, Mom. And there's nothing you can say that can get me away from her. I… I love her."

"Tom, you don't know that," Suzan assessed. "You're at an age where you think you're in love, but it's really just infatuation! He may say he loves you and you might think you love him because he says he does…But the truth is neither of you really know what love is yet! And you can't throw your life away for that!"

"Who's throwing their life away?" Collins asked. "I told you, Mom, Dad. If there isn't a way to be safe, then we just won't do anything! But that won't keep me away from her! I really do love her and you're gonna have to accept that."

"You're seventeen, Tom. You don't know the first thing about love," Suzan insisted.

"What does age have to do with it?" asked Collins. "Why can't two teenagers be in love without people telling them it won't last and it's just puppy love? Why can't I want to spend my life with her?"

"I know how you must feel," Suzan whispered, coming forward and laying a hand on her son's cheek. "He's the first person you've ever felt this strongly for and you think it's love. But someday, when you look back on all this, you're going to realize that what you felt for him isn't anything close to real love."

"We are your parents, Tom," Clayton growled. "And what we say goes. You're not to see him again, do you understand me? If you do…" the threat in his eyes spoke more than words could and Collins cringed.

"I don't see why Angel having HIV triggered all this," Collins cried. "It's not like she had any control over it; she was born with it after all! And…she's so careful it's almost annoying. She won't let me help her out when she's cut and bleeding. She wouldn't kiss me until a cold sore I had last week cleared up… She would never do that to me. And I would never do that to her. There are ways to be careful."

"We don't want you infected," Suzan said once again.

"For God's sake mom! For the last time, Angel's so careful she's practically a saint!"

Suzan sighed, stepping back and looking reflective for a few minutes. "Okay, I think I can see if from your point of view a bit, Tom. And…I think that if you continue to be careful…"

"…Which we will…"

"…Then I don't have a problem with you two continuing to see each other," she finished.

"Condoms," was all Grams said, making the whole room jump – they'd almost forgotten about the matriarch being present – and Collins blushed a bit.

"Yes," Suzan giggled in agreement, blushing as well and not able to say it herself.

"Suzan…" Clayton said slowly. Collins soured right back up.

"Oh, stop it Dad! You've been just hunting for something to use against Angel and I since the second you found out I was gay!"

"You know that's not true, Tom," Clayton sighed, a bit of shame starting to taint his, up until that point, demanding voice. "I just can't help but worry about you and wonder if I can trust him."

"You can, I promise," Collins whispered. "She's the most amazing, wonderful, absoloutly selfless person in the world." He glanced towards the door, figuring Mimi had begun conducting a manhunt by now and he should probably help – he didn't want either of them out there alone at this hour. "I should go – help find Angel."

Suzan nodded and watched as her son stepped out of the room, before looking over at her husband. "Oh, Clay…I think he means it! My baby's all grown up and in love!"

Clayton nodded, embracing his wife gently, no doubt remembering their own meeting when they were sixteen in high school. "I really think he does, Suzie. I really do."

* * *

She just ran. She didn't know where she was going, what she was going to do; she just needed to get away from them all. The sun was setting in the far west and she knew that soon there wouldn't be anything for her to use to guide her through the rapidly darkening streets but she could manage.

Finally she came to the park and ran to the nearest bench she could find. She brought her knees to her chest and curled the rest of her body around them. She placed her head on her knees and simply sobbed into her skirt, mouthing words into the fabric and staining it with the raspberry color of her lip-gloss.

The streetlights flicked on around her and she must have sat there half an hour, because the next thing she knew the stars were shining brightly overhead and she had absoloutly no tears left to cry. What would happen now? Would Collins be made to see the light and leave her? Would Collins' parents make him stay away from her? Were Clayton and Suzan setting up arrangements to have him sent off to some brainwashing boarding school far away as she sat there?

She heard a noise on the wind. It sounded a lot like her name but she ignored it. Then again, closer this time and she finally looked up.

"ANGEL?!"

"ANGELCHICA! COME ON, YOUR MOM'S WORRIED SICK! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"ANGEL! YOU OUT HERE?!"

She sat up at the realization that Collins and Mimi were somewhere close, calling for her. Her tears began anew and she called, "Mimi? Tom? I'm over here!"

The thin, slight form of Mimi came barreling down the sidewalk and threw herself at Angel, squeezing her tightly. "Oh, God! I was so worried, Chica! You've been gone three hours!"

Angel frowned. Three hours? It sure hadn't seemed that long. She patted Mimi's back and pulled her down to sit beside her, burying her face in her shoulder. Collins sat on her other side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She sighed, sniffing and wiping her eyes in an attempt at hiding the fact that she was crying, and glanced between her two favorite people; her best friend and boyfriend. "Okay, just tell me straight. Am I gonna get dumped?"

Collins shook his head vehemently and tugged Angel to him, wrapping her securely in a warm embrace. "No. They weren't happy at first but…I think everything's been pretty much worked out. My dad will take a bit more convincing but after that…we're out of the woods. But now would be good time to tell me anymore secrets…just while they're open to new ideas."

Laughing a bit, Angel assured, "Nope, no more…unless they've happened to somehow miss the drag. Then I'd clue them in." Thinking back to what started the whole thing, she blushed at the memory of the scene she'd created and murmured, "I'm sorry to go completely insane on you guys. I just…can't believe she'd tell them that."

"You're gonna hate me, Chica, but I really think they should have known before," Mimi murmured. "I think the blowup may not have been so bad if they'd known outright."

"I don't see why," Angel growled. "As far as I'm concerned, nothing's ever gonna happen to Collins that would result in them having to know. And it's not like they're ever gonna be provided with infected grandchildren, seeing as it's kinda impossible for me to give birth…"

Mimi sighed. "You know as well as I do that it would beat you up inside, Angel."

"I know," she admitted. She shivered as the wind picked up and burrowed closer to the warmth of her friends, letting out a shuddering breath as she finally registered her practically icicle-like state. Collins pulled off his top layer – a wool coat – and slung it around her shoulders. She thanked him in a murmur with a gentle kiss and stood, holding her hands out. He wrapped one arm around her waist and the other around Mimi's shoulders and walked with them out of the park.

"Does my mom like totally hate me now?" Angel murmured, cringing in preparation for the answer.

"I actually think she's just about as sorry as you are," Mimi assured. "She's worried sick; probably just about to call your disappearance into Missing Persons or something. So don't worry, Chica."

"I love you guys," Angel sighed, squeezing Collins and brushing her fingers over Mimi's shoulder.

"We love ya too, Ang," Collins whispered. Mimi beamed at him and rose a brow. He made the same face in return and she flashed her teeth in a wide grin.

They arrived back at the Schunard residence in time to see Clayton come out the door, Jessica asleep on his hip, followed by Suzan and Alberta. They appeared to have tired of waiting for their son to reappear and figured he could find his way home. The Collinses took in the group of teens and Clayton sighed, raising his brows at Angel in defeat.

"I'm sorry about the scene I created earlier, Mr. and Mrs. Collins," Angel murmured, respectfully stepping away from their son to stand on her own two feet. "It was uncalled for and I overreacted."

Suzan shook her head, taking Angel by surprise when she hugged her. "Oh, it's okay sweetie. I'm so sorry that you had to go through finding this out at your age. And I'm sure Clay is just as sorry as I am about pushing the subject and revealing things that weren't meant to be revealed."

"No, you have the right to know and I should have told you," Angel insisted, pulling back and smiling at her boyfriend's mother. "Thank you so much for accepting this. And thank you too, Mr. Collins. It means so much to me."

Clayton nodded and shook Angel's hand. "No problem, Angel. Personally, you'd have to be blind to not see that you and Tom are very good together. And I think my wife would agree that you can call us Clayton and Suzan."

Angel nodded, grinning at the honor, and retook her position next to Mimi. She looked towards the porch to see her mother leaning in the doorway, smiling just a bit.

Collins wrapped Mimi in a hug and kissed Angel goodbye before following his family to the car, waving at Marcella and Marcia as he left. Angel and Mimi glanced at each other and walked up the steps, Angel mumbling, "Mimi's staying the night…" and stepped into her mother's arms, hugging her tightly.

"I want you to eat something, _Mijo_," Marcella whispered, smiling. "There are leftovers in the fridge."

Angel nodded and slunk away, into the house, followed by the rest of her family and walked into the kitchen, warming up some turkey, green bean casserole, and mashed potatoes (courtesy of Suzan) and went upstairs to change, coming back down in pair of shorts and a black tee-shirt. He sat at the kitchen counter and slowly picked at his meal, not eating a whole lot.

They had gotten through this ordeal, but Angel couldn't help but think there would be something they couldn't get through. No one person was allowed to be this happy and lucky in one lifetime; all within the span of three months, no less. Something had to give; he was sure of it.

Now, to him, all that was left was time; when, and why, would the blowup come about?

**

* * *

End chapter; TBC

* * *

**

A/N: Oh, eh...I didn't really like this. Maybe you did, I dunno. Anyway, next chapter will probably be Angel's birthday/Christmas/New Year's because I feel like it (And no one ever does the holidays in high school fics; what's up with that?!) and I hope you will enjoy that too! :D

La Translations: (There's a boatload of 'em so prepare)  
*_ Ay, chica…mira eso! Él es azotado_!" translates into: "Oh girl…look at that! He's whipped!"  
**"_Mamá, me estás avergonzando_!" Angel hissed. Marcella sighed at her son and replied, _"¿Qué, Angel, no estoy autorizado a socializar en su empresa?_"  
"_Usted puede si usted no habla sobre mí_!"  
"_Se le olvida, la miel. Yo soy la mamá, y yo para hablar de lo que quiero_."  
Angel let out a groan worthy of every preteen girl who ever lived and mumbled, "_Collins, por favor, no juzgar sobre lo que me dice mi madre…ella se entusiasma cuando está en estrecha qauters con personas que no están conmigo y la abuela_." Translates to: (Just the translations) One: "Mama, you're embarrassing me!" Two: "What, Angel? Am I not allowed to socialize in your presence?" Three: "You can, just don't talk about me!" Four: "You forget, honey. I'm the mommy, and I get to talk about what I want." Five: Please, Collins…don't judge me on what my mother might say…she gets talkative when she's in the company of people other than me or Abuela."  
***Angel gasped and stared at her mother, shooting up off the sofa. "MAMA! _No_ _puedo creer que usted! ¿Cómo puedes decir eso? Es personal_!"  
Marcella regarded her son solemnly, with someone akin to reprimand in her stare. "_Alguien_ _tenía que decirles. Debería haber sido usted_."  
"_Yo no estaba a punto de decirle que podía infectar a su hijo con una enfermedad mortal_!" Angel cried vehemently. Mimi and Collins both stood and Mimi whispered something to Angel, who nodded and sat down. Translates to: one: "MAMA! I can't believe you! How could you tell them that?! It's personal!" Two: "They should know. I shouldn't have had to tell them." Three: "I was not about to tell them that I could infect their child with a deadly disease!"  
Wow. That's a whole helluva lot, isn't it? Anyway, uh…the "There's a cat in my pants" Thing is dedicated to David, who made me squirt water out my nose by telling me that in English.

Thanks to **Marky's Scarfy** for being so completely awesome and enduring through the mistakes I make! And being my moral support, which is always a good quality in a beta!

Reviews are the Sadism to my Masochism! REVIEW, BITCH! (Please?)

-Lynn


	11. Chapter 10: Christmas Bells are Ringing!

A/N: Another Franken-chapter! This time, though, the beginning of this chapter was originally around the middle of the last chapter…right after the first time skip doohickey. :D HEY! DOOHICKEY'S AN ACTUAL WORD! AT LEAST MW SAYS IT IS! Anyway…enjoy!

Song of the week: Give You Hell – All-American Rejects. I love it and my friend got it caught in my head this week…

Disclaimer: Jonathon Larson (May he rest in peace) brought this whole thing to life and inspired millions. This is simply me taking his characters and playing with them for a while because…well, that's just what fangirls do. This is by no means mine. Though, I do own Tony and Jared. Thank you and Larson bless.

**

* * *

Chapter 10: Christmas Bells are Ringing!

* * *

**

"Hey, Maureen, can I ask you a question?"

Maureen grinned at her best friend from across the coffee table in her living room and nodded. "Sure, Marky. What's up?"

"Well…" he seemed to be having difficulty converting his thoughts into speech and Maureen nodded her head in a prompting gesture, hoping it would speed up the process. "I'm just kind of confused about something right now and I wanted to know what you thought…"

"Baby, spit it out." The old endearment had nothing but friendly or even sisterly meaning to it now. They two had known each other for well over ten years and since the day after they met Mark had been 'baby'.

"Okay, how did you know you were gay?" Mark tried to sound nothing but curious; as though he wanted to understand further why Maureen had decided to dump him. By Maureen's reaction, it was hard to tell if his acting worked or not but she didn't look suspicious. Then again, Maureen herself had always been a spectacular actress.

"Well, first of all," Maureen began. "You did nothing for me, no offense. Uhm, second…I found myself staring at girls a lot more than guys, again no offense…And Joanne kissed me one day while we were hanging out at her house and I liked kissing her way more than I liked kissing you and yeah that's pretty much where I figured it out."

Mark pretended to look hurt. "What? Is it Insult Mark Day?"

"Sorry, Marky," Maureen sighed, reaching across the table to pat his shoulder. "That give you the answer you wanted? Or do you want to stop beating around the bush and ask me the question you really want answered?"

"Maureen…I would but I…"

"I get it. You don't know yet," Maureen soothed. "It's okay, Mark. I think every teenager has to go through that period of questioning themselves. Just some people don't come out on the same side they went in on." She giggled a bit at the double meaning of her sentence. Regarding her with apprehension, Mark searched her eyes. She rolled them. "Oh, Mark. I have no problem with it. Just figure yourself out."

There were a few minutes of silence; embarrassed on Mark's part, with various crackles of excitement from Maureen and Mark had to wonder why she was so hyped at the possibility of his being gay. She was almost literally bouncing in her seat.

"So, who are you considering changing sides for?" Maureen finally burst.

Rolling his eyes, Mark informed, "There's really not one person it's just…I suddenly find myself very…curious and…tell you the truth, I don't know what to think anymore."

"That's okay," Maureen soothed. "But seriously? Who have you been staring at? I know him?"

"Maybe," Mark admitted.

"OOOH!" Maureen squealed, hoping off the floor and coming over to plop next to Mark on the couch. "WHOWHOWHOWHOWHO?! I bet I know who it is! Roger, right?"

Mark blushed, shaking his head violently. "No, Maureen!"

"Uh…Angel? No, wait, she's too pretty; I stare at her too…uh…Collins?" she asked apprehensively. "He doesn't seem your type, Marky, if I do say so myself…I would think less scary-looking. I mean, not that Collins isn't _good_-looking; because he is…he can just be…"

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, MAUREEN! IT'S NOT COLLINS!" Mark bellowed. "I'm not even sure you do know him; he's in Roger's band."

"Tony or Jared?" Maureen asked automatically, sitting at attention. "Because one's straight but the other's a definite three on the Kinsey scale so you'd seriously have a chance there. Who, Marky, who?!"

"I'll only tell you if you stop strangling me!" Mark choked. The drama queen had all but crawled into his lap and had her arms flung about his neck, pulling his head down so close that she was yelling in his ear. Apologizing quickly, Maureen jerked her hands away and slid back onto the sofa next to Mark, though still pushed incredibly close to him. "Okay, it's Tony."

An incredibly loud, almost inhuman squeal issued from Maureen. "He's the bi one!"

"I know; he asked me out!" Mark yelled.

"And what did you say?!"

"NO!"

"WHY?!"

Mark ground his teeth together and glared at his best friend, growling out, "Maureen…I said no because I'm not sure yet, okay? I think I might, but I'm not sure…"

"Oh, honestly Mark," Maureen sighed. "If you like the guy, that means _something_, at least! It's not marriage. Try it out, if it's not good, tell him you're sorry, that you tried, and that you'd like to still be friends. Problem solved; I doubt he's in love with you. He won't be totally heart-broken if it's only a two-week thing. Think about it, Marky! Okay? Okay."

"You make it sound so simple," Mark grumbled, crossing his arms.

"Because it's. Just. That. Simple," Maureen growled. "You're the one blowing this way out of proportion, baby!"

"Why are you so eager to set me up?" Mark asked. "With a man, no less!"

"Because," Maureen sighed, "I guess I still feel so bad about leaving you for Joanne and I just want you to have someone who makes you as happy as Joanne makes me. And you being gay would also make me feel lots less guilty. And you _need _an S.O. of some sort."

"I love you too, Maureen."

* * *

December blew in, freezing cold and miserable. It had yet to snow, but everyone could sense it wasn't far off. Angel's birthday fell on a Tuesday so it went without much celebration from anyone. But Saturday morning did find Mimi and Collins sitting in Angel's kitchen for an impromptu party involving a small sheet cake and reruns of some crime drama.

"So, you're seventeen now," Mimi observed from the couch, hanging off the sofa and looked at Angel from where she sat at the kitchen table next to Collins, looking bored. "Anything you feel like doing now that you are officially of age in the state of New York?"

Angel shrugged, poking at the piece of cake she was eating. Mimi had refused any cake and Angel wasn't exactly happy about that. "Dunno…"

"Do ya feel different?" Collins asked, grinning and poking her. Angel brushed his hand away with a giggle.

"Not exactly," she said. "Am I supposed to?"

"Well…according to the law, you're allowed to have sex now," Mimi listed, holding up one finger. "Uh…that's pretty much it. But that's kinda awesome?"

"It is," Angel agreed around a bite of cake. Marcella chuckled from across the living room and shot a fake glare at both.

"There will be no talk of that in my living room, girls," she admonished. Angel rolled her eyes and took another bite of cake, sticking her frosting-covered tongue out at her mother in a very unladylike fashion, and Marcella grimaced. "Angel…that's disgusting."

"Good," Angel mumbled, smirking mockingly at her mother.

"I. Am. So. BORED," Mimi groaned, nearly slipping off the couch she was leaning so far over the arm. "Angel; wanna open your presents now?"

"Sure," Angel sighed as she finished her cake. She got up and placed the plate in the sink and walked into the living room to sit on the sofa. Mimi hopped up and ran to the hall closet, dragging out a small armful of presents and dumping them unceremoniously on the coffee table. Angel winced as something made the sound of metal clinking on metal and asked, "There's nothing breakable in there, is there Meems?"

"Dunno," Mimi replied, plopping down next to her. "Mine isn't."

"And therefore you don't care," Angel assessed, giggling and grabbing the one that had a card in Mimi's loopy writing which read, "_Happy birthday, Chica_!" She shook it, and grinned when nothing made any noise. This meant the contents were probably fabric. Grinning like a maniac, she went at the wrapping with vigor, only stopping and taking a second to take off the green bow and lean across Mimi to Collins, sticking it on the crown of his head. Collins rolled his eyes in an all-suffering way, but inwardly grinned at Angel's childish antics.

"Oh, Chica, you shouldn't have!" was shrieked loudly enough to have the dogs halfway down the block howling in agony. Mimi squealed along with her as they hugged and Angel displayed her new skirt to everyone. It was red and ruffled, looking like it would reach about mid-thigh and was made of various types of fabric in strips running horizontally along it. One layer was a sparkling goldish fabric, the next was made of a fabric that made the red look a bit dull, the next looked to be cotton and was stripped, the color phasing back and forth between two hues of red, then finally a dark, rich satiny fabric that made up the top layer and waistband.

"I love it, love it, love it!" Angel cried, hugging her best friend tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Never missing one scrap-book worthy moment, Abuela flashed a picture of it and placed it on the table to develop. If Mimi was a cartoon character, she would have little spinning swirls in the place of her pupils as a result of the flash.

"Try it on!" Mimi cried, and Marcella backed the demand by nodding enthusiastically. "I want to see if it fits you. I have one in pink. We'll match…kind of!"

Angel giggled and hopped off down the hall and up the stairs, reappearing a few minutes later in the skirt and struck a pose. Mimi clapped, another picture was flashed, and Collins allowed his eyes to roam hungrily down Angel's body.

"Like?" Angel asked, as she pranced into the center of the room and spun around to give everyone the full view. It flew up in the back, giving everyone a flash of her blue panties, and Marcella reached out, tugging the skirt down from where it had caught on Angel's rather prominent bum. Collins cleared his throat and rearranged himself on the sofa, tossing one foot up to rest on the opposite knee and hopefully hiding anything incriminating from those who would be offended by it in the room.

"Love!" Mimi agreed, smoothing it down and stepping back to admire it from afar, "definitely great for the Christmas season with the red and the gold. Though, I'd wear a different pair of underwear. The blue doesn't go. I'd wear black or white or maybe a creamy color."

"Well, yeah," Angel agreed, hopping back onto the couch. "I wasn't expecting to wear anything red today." She motioned for someone to place another present in her hands, crossing her legs Indian-style like an eager child. Marcella laughed and held out her present to her son, which Angel eagerly tore into.

The transvestite grinned and held out her arms to her mother, and they hugged tightly for a few seconds, before Marcella pulled back and allowed Angel to display her new earrings. There were three pairs; one large gypsy hoops, another blue, beaded dangles, and the last pink studs in the shape of hearts. She put in the studs and ran upstairs to stash the others in her jewelry box, before hopping back downstairs and grabbing a shoe-box sized present, which immediately had her excited. It turned out it was a case of body mists from Abuela in the smells Hawaiian Ginger, Paradise Flower and Hibiscus, Passion Fruit and Brazil Nut, and Papaya and Orange Blossom. Very fruity smells and Angel grinned, hugging her grandmother but neglecting to tell her she'd probably only wear them every once in a while; she preferred more spicy scents.

"And, last but not least," Collins (whom now had a yellow and blue bow on, too) announced and placed a small jewelry box in her lap. Still grinning, Angel took off the lid, stuck one final bow on Collins' head (red) and awed when she saw the box contained a charm bracelet. Hanging from it were six charms; a robe-clad angel, and five letters: A-N-G-E-L. She held out her wrist for Collins to clip it on, and turned his face towards her's using gentle pressure on his cheek. She smiled beautifully at him, leaning in and kissing him on the lips. When they pulled back, she whispered, "Thank you! It's great. I love it…I love you."

Mimi cut it with rather obnoxious gagging noises and threw herself on the couch on Angel's other side. "So…did you love them?"

"More than love!" Angel cried, hugging her best friend again. Collins winced as Marcella ripped a bow from his head and stuck it on Chico, who meowed indignantly and shot out of the room. "You guys are the best!"

Marcella chuckled and hugged her son again. Angel beamed at her. Her mother's present had meant more than most in the room knew. With the femininity of the gift, her mother was accepting the idea of her son being primarily female and even encouraging it.

The party lasted only another half hour before Mimi went home after her mother called, demanding that she come home for dinner. Collins stuck around for a while longer, only leaving when Angel offered to walk him home, and waiting around while she changed into some sneakers before they headed out.

"So…seventeen, huh?" Collins asked, swinging Angel's hand back and forth. "That's gotta be exciting."

"This is true," Angel replied, nodding. "There's nothing especially great about it…I don't feel any different."

"Should you?" Collins asked, shrugging. "I mean…it's just like any other birthday, right?"

Angel chuckled and slowed down, smirking coyly at Collins and nervously tugging on his sleeve. "Well…I _am_ seventeen now, you know?"

They were still dancing around the subject of sex. Neither of them was exactly comfortable breaching the subject, because Collins didn't want to push Angel and Angel didn't want to seem hypocritical. But it was getting a tiny bit more ridicules every time one of them blushed and looked away when the subject came up.

"You are," Collins agreed. "And…you can do lots of things when you're seventeen…"

"Like donate blood…"

"…not that you'd be doing that anyway…"

"…drive a car by myself…"

"…though you don't have a license in the first place, so…"

"And…uh…"

"Yeah…"

Collins took a deep breath and stopped Angel, placing both hands on her waist, ducking his hands under her jacket and shirt and resting his somehow warm hands on her cold skin. She shivered. "Baby…are you wanting to try soon?"

Angel blushed and nodded, laying her head on Collins' shoulder. "Yeah. I think I'm ready."

"Okay," Collins agreed, running his thumbs along Angel's skin. She shuddered again and bit her lip to hold back an untimely moan. He kissed her gently and slunk his hands out from under her clothing, taking her hand again and allowed her to continue escorting him to his house. Once on the porch, they stood pressed together from knee to chest.

"Be careful going back, okay?" Collins commanded, snaking a hand through Angel's wig. She nodded. "And you're still staying over some time week after next, right?" the rest of his family was taking a trip for a week to see distant relatives in the Pennsylvania area and he'd begged not to have to go. His mother, always being a sucker for her children's pouts, caved and allowed him to stay behind, if only because he reminded her that if he was gone a week he'd miss a lot in school. Jessica didn't care; what all did second graders do that they couldn't catch up on quickly?

"Friday," Angel promised. She pecked his lips and murmured, "I love you."

"Love you too," Collins agreed, attempting to push her away but without any real force behind it. Chuckling, he murmured, "Angel, c'mon. You gotta go home or your mom's gonna think I kidnapped you or something."

"Don't wanna," Angel whined, giggling. "I wanna stay here…and kiss you."

"One day, baby," Collins sighed, hugging her to him for a few minutes. "When we're out of this God-forsaken town and we've got our own place, we'll stay in bed and just kiss for a few hours."

"Promise?" Angel murmured into his shoulder, starting to pull away.

"Promise," he confirmed, and watched as she nodded, smiled, and pranced down the steps, keeping his eyes on her and making sure she rounded the corner okay before turning back to his house and walking in, hurrying up the stairs and to bed.

* * *

"IIIIIIIIT'S CHRIIIIIIIISTMAAAAAAS!!"

Collins groaned and rolled over, pulling his pillow over his head. He glared out the window, where the snow was falling steadily, the flurry making it impossible to see anything. Relief flooded him when it appeared that the yelling was over, but soon enough Jessica was back, screaming at the top of her voice.

"JESSICA!" Collins bellowed. "WHAT IS YOUR _DAMAGE_?!"

Jessica came bounding in the door and hopped on the bed, jumping around, over, and on him. "It's Christmas, Tommy! Wakey, wakey, eggs and bacie! Don't you wanna see what Santa Clause brought you?!"

A groan was the only response she received.

"Oh, come on you lazy, sleepy head!" Jessica whined, poking him in the side. "Please? _Please_? PLEASE?!"

"I'll do it if you stop bouncing on me!" Collins groaned, taking her by the armpits and hauling her off the bed. She let out a "Wheee!" of glee and ran out of the room, crying, "Mommy! Daddy! Wake up, it's Christmas! Santa came last night!"

Vaguely wondering what would happen if he told her right now that Santa Clause didn't exist, Collins drug himself out of bed and slugged downstairs. Piles of presents sat under the large tree and he smirked, knowing Jessica would just squeal her little head off. Maybe she would loose her voice…Permanently.

Suzan was downstairs ten minutes later in a pink robe and bunny slippers, and Clayton followed in a matching blue ensemble. They did that every year and the sight of his parents looking like demented twins never failed to irk Collins. Jessica squealed as she flew down the stairs and hoped at her father, climbing up him like a spider monkey and demanding, "Piggy back!"

Clayton chuckled and hiked her more securely onto his back, telling her to hold on and ran around the living room at the closest thing to light speed. At Suzan's reprimand, they slowed and eventually Clayton tired, dropping Jessica onto the couch and plopping down next to her. Jessica, of course not tired at all, hopped right back up and ran to the mantle, taking all their stockings off and handing them around.

Collins dug into his and found four items. The first was a gift card to the record store worth twenty bucks. This was followed by a box of junior mints, a pack of mechanical pencils, and a PEZ dispenser. Not the best stocking in the word, but better than nothing.

Then came the real fun; what Suzan liked to call the frenzy of the year. Both adults sat back and with a wave of their hands, allowed their children to go at their presents. Jessica all but dove into the pile on the left, while Collins plopped onto the floor beside his pile and tugged them out one by one, opening them and trying to keep his paper to an orderly mess.

A few records.

A new pair of jeans.

Two new hoodies.

Socks and boxers (This made him glare at his mother, who innocently glanced at her finger nails while telling him that Santa must have felt someone had to buy new underwear for him if he wasn't going to.)

Several books.

A new pair of sneakers; which he actually needed quite badly as the ones he owned currently had started looking quite the mess.

Three tee-shirts.

A new sweater.

The presents weren't spectacular, but he did have to give his parents credit; shopping for a teenager without said teenager standing beside you telling you what to buy was hard. They were presents he would use, at least. And maybe he wouldn't look like a homeless bum now that he had the new clothes. He hugged his parents and grandmother, thanking them profusely. Then he cleaned up the mess of paper and walked upstairs to stash all his things in his room. He was putting his new shoes under the bed when he noticed the corner of something peeking out from under the bed.

Furrowing his brows, he tugged it out. It revealed itself to be a simple white box with his name scrawled in Angel's small, neat handwriting on the lid, and he and smirked when he saw the card stuck under a bow; _'__Do not open before Christmas or the almighty Angel will withhold kisses for an entire week.'_He sat on the bed and took off the bow, shrugging and sticking it on his own head, before taking off the lid and smiling when he saw what lay inside.

It was a picture of them; him and Angel in Angel's dinning room. The picture was obviously taken by Abuela because the lady really liked a good candid shot and that's definitely what that was. Angel was wrapped in his arms, her head against his shoulder and his head on her head. He remembered this day; it was the day they'd danced around her dining room. Even as he looked, he could see a bit of a pout on Angel's face, but it was fake. It didn't scrunch her brow or wrinkle her nose. Underneath, she was smiling.

He took the picture out and put it on his beside table, his attention turning back to the box and pulled out the white envelope nestled in the tissue paper. Inside was a folded letter and he settled back to read it.

_ Dear Collins,_

_ Wow. Just look at how far we've come, huh? From not knowing each other existed to  
well…I guess you could kind of call us lovers now, right? Even though we haven't  
done anything…but getting off that subject. The last few months have been amazing  
and I just can't tell you how much I love you right now baby. So just let me babble at  
you on paper for a few minutes._

_ I robbed the picture from one of Abuela's many scrap books and made a couple of copies.  
And I hope you like it. I think you'll remember that day pretty well. It's the day I finally  
convinced you to come out. But I'm getting off the subject again. I wanted you to have  
this picture because I have the same one and when I look at it…it makes me feel all fuzzy  
inside. It reminds me of the way you hold me and make me feel like you'll never let go…and  
it reminds me of how much you love me. _

_ So…merry Christmas, baby, and may we have a bunch more to celebrate together!  
Call me when you find this – I want to hear your reaction. If you like it, great! If  
you don't…pretend you like it! _

_ All the love in the world,_

_ Your Angel_

Collins chuckled and folded the note back up, slipping it into the back of the frame and placing the frame back on the bedside table. He stepped back to admire it from afar and smiled softly when he realized that Angel was right. The picture did send memories flooding back, and only seemed to make him fall deeper in love with her. That old saying rang true; he didn't love her nearly as much yesterday, and didn't love her nearly as much today as he would tomorrow.

He remembered that he was supposed to be calling Angel now, and hurried down the stairs to do just that. It turned out his mother was calling her sister in Jersey and he had to sit, twitching impatiently at the kitchen counter for fifteen minutes until Suzan finally put the phone down and walked out of the room. He nearly vaulted over the counter and grabbed the phone, dialing in the familiar number and crossing his fingers as he was greeted with the sound of ringing. Hopefully Marcella hadn't decided to go over to Angel's Abuela's for Christmas.

"Schunard residence, Angelo speaking, how may I help you?" the sweet, melodious voice he knew and loved rang out to him and he couldn't help the grin that snaked onto his face.

"Angel!" he cried in greeting. "Good morning, my spicy Latina!"

Angel giggled and murmured, "I guess you found my gift, huh? Didja like it?"

"Loved it," Collins confirmed. Jessica ran in and hopped around his feet, making obnoxious kissing noises. He attempted to ignore her. "So when do I get to thank you in person?"

"My, you have a dirty mind, Mr. Collins," Angel chuckled, and Collins could almost see Marcella in the background, her head popping up wondering what he could possibly he saying to her son. "And I'll be down tomorrow some time. Probably won't be able to escape the clutches of the _El Chupacabra_ today."

"_Who are you calling an _El Chupacabra_, Angelo Jorge?!" _rang in the background and Angel snorted, rather unladylike in the mornings.

"No one, Mama!" Angel called and snorted again. "I've gotta go, baby. The Nazi's coming."

Collins laughed and said, "Okay. I love you. Oh, and if you wanna find your present, _ooklay underway ethay ofasay_, okay?" *

"Ookla whatahuh?" asked Angel. Collins could nearly see the cute little nose-scrunching.

"Pig Latin, Ang. Figure it out," he said, before hanging up.

"Oh, Angel!" Jessica cried mockingly, still hopping around the kitchen. "I wanna kiss you and hug you and I looooove you!"

Rolling his eyes, Collins hauled her off the floor and swung her around to hang on his back, telling her, "Now, Jess…what did I tell you about being an evil yipping devil? It's not attractive. And you're such a sweet girl…sometimes! Don't do it…It makes my head hurt."

"Like Mommy when she's PMFing?" Jessica asked, and Collins snorted.

"Yes, Jess, like Mommy when she's PMFing," he chuckled, and Suzan glared.

* * *

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The cheer echoed around the Cohen residence's living room as the group of friends all cheered and drank happily. Mark was throwing a party – his parents had gone off somewhere for the weekend and his sister was at her boyfriend's for 'dinner', but Mark seriously expected her not to be back until morning as she took advantage of their parent's absences just as much as he. No one exactly knew how they all convinced their parents to allow them out on New Year's Eve of all days, but it happened. Though, with the promise of staying over at Mark's and not risking driving/walking home in a city probably full of drunks in the wee hours of the morning.

That's how all nine of them – Tony and Jared had been quickly incorporated into the group after turning up with all the alcohol they could rob from their parent's pantries – ended up hopping around at the stroke of midnight, drinking their poor excuse for champagne – white wine and soda water.

"1990!" Maureen bellowed, more than a little tipsy. "WOO! THE NEW DECADE! WE'RE ONLY TEN YEARS AWAY FROM THE NEW –" and this point, she fell off the sofa and giggled up at the ceiling, kicking her legs out to rest on the couch cushion.

"She gonna get up?" Tony mumbled to Mark, clinking glasses with him and taking a generous sip.

"At some point," Mark replied, also drinking. They stared at each other for a few minutes until Mark finally mumbled, "Hey, Tony…is that offer still up?"

Smiling, Tony replied, "Yeah, Mark; it is."

"Great," Mark replied, also smiling. They kissed each other's cheeks. It was as simple as that.

Everyone clinked glasses with everyone else, Joanne hauled Maureen off the floor to give her a peck on the lips, Mimi and Roger sweetly kissed from the couch, and Angel hopped over to Collins, clinking her glass against his and draining her glass.

"Okay…I'm drunk…" she giggled when the effects of the alcohol she'd drunk durring the night made themselves known all at once. She stumbled into Collins, who caught her and giggled, more than tipsy himself, brushing a few strands of her wig back behind her ears. Angel drunkenly wobbled back onto her own two feet and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing tightly into him. She huskily murmured, "Happy New Year, Tooommyy…" and attached her lips to his.

No one noticed when Mimi and Roger snuck out of the house, with Jared in toe, and sat at the table on the patio.

"Do you have it?" Mimi asked Jared. Jared pulled out a little baggie full of powder and she sighed in relief. "Is there enough there?"

"Yup," Jared replied, taking out a spoon too. Roger handed him a lighter and he heated it while Mimi withdrew a syringe from her purse and handed it to Roger. When the heroin was bubbling, he poured it into the syringe and handed it to Mimi. She injected some of it, then handed it to Roger, whom handed it to Jared after he'd shot up as well. Jared used the last of it and sat back, sighing in satisfaction and handed Mimi her syringe back.

Every time since that first one in Roger's living room, Mimi promised herself it would be the last time – that this was just one last dose of her vice to get her through quitting. But she kept coming back for more. Jared was their supplier – he had contacts in high places which meant he got the purest and cleanest stuff for the lowest price possible. Roger had described it as "the good shit" and Mimi couldn't agree more.

"Think they'll notice we're gone?"

"Nah," Roger replied, sitting back and crossing his arms as the drug sunk into his system. "They're all drunk – they wouldn't notice a nuclear bomb going off in the same room."

"Until they blew up, too," Jared added.

"Bad analogy," Roger consented.

Mimi sighed, crossing her arms and letting the heroine rush her system. She promised herself – this was her last hit.

Secretly, she knew she was lying to herself.

**

* * *

End Chapter; TBC

* * *

**

A/N: Next chapter: Will have more Mark/Tony in it. Do you like Tony? I'm sorry if you don't! I hope some people like what I'm doing! It's hard to do this (Write without feedback)! I hope you're liking this! :D I don't really like this chapter, though, so I wouldn't blame you if you didn't…

"_Ooklay underway ethay ofasay_," translates into: "Look under the sofa."

Huge props to my beta **Marky's Scarfy**! Thanks much, hun!

Reviews are the dark bars that make my scars from nevers and maybes die! Please, review!

-Lynn


	12. Chapter 11: The Morning After

A/N: Hey, everyone! If this is being posted, that means I am back in the word of technology! Uhg – my grandmother's internet isn't working and I am LITERALLY cut off from the outside world! Sure, there's news, but that's USELESS! UHG! *Pulls hair out and screams like an angry Guinea Pig – which is seriously the noise I make when I'm mad* I'm just desperate for human communication (which means I NEED BADLY to have a conversation with a fellow fangirl ASAP) and maybe a bit of sanitizing computer time! I need a hug…

Song of the week: Thinking of You – Katy Perry. JUST FREAKING LIKE ANGEL AND COLLINS! That is…if Collins ever decided to move on…which he wouldn't…*goes to listen to it again*

Disclaimer: Although I wish like hell Angel and Collins were mine and I had the right to bring Angel back to life and have them live long lives despite their mortality, I can't…*Wa* Jonathon Larson (RIP) owns it all! And he's genius! So worship him! That's right! Get on your knees and bow down to his awesomeness! *Bowbowbowbow*

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Chapter 11: The Morning After

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The room surrounding him was a bright color of pink. Angel had never really loved pink – especially the bright color of magenta that decorated three fourths of this room. This is what told him that this was not his room, nor was it a room he was at all familiar with. Rolling over, he groaned about the light streaming in the window as he felt his head pound a bit. He'd obviously had more than enough to drink last night. Then he realized something else; there didn't seem to be anything separating his skin from the cotton sheets.

He shot up and held the sheets bunched to his waist, glancing frantically around. He looked down and saw a very familiar body lying on his stomach next to him. His mouth hung open and he gasped, throwing himself at Collins and shaking him violently awake.

"Collins! Tom, wake up – I think we did something bad…"

Collins blinked his eyes open and smiled at Angel, murmuring, "Well, this is a pleasant way to wake up." He then noticed Angel's distraught face and frowned, asking, "What's wrong, baby?"

Angel sighed, pulling the covers back to reveal his bare hips and bit his lip. "You're smart, Tom; figure it out."

Shaking his head, Collins sat up and rubbed a hand through his again lengthening hair. "Angel…Are you sure? Did we actually do anything? Or did we just maybe fall asleep? I don't think we're that stupid…"

Angel shifted around on the bed and winced as a certain part of his lower extremities stung painfully at the movement. He glanced back at Collins, nodding. "Yeah, Tom…I think we did."

"Oh, _God_…" Collins groaned, falling back onto the bed. Angel continued to worry at his lip and all at once dove away, frantically searching around the room, throwing stuffed animals and dolls in random directions in order to see under them and riffling all through the blankets. Finally, he dove under the bed and let out a yip of relief before resurfacing holding a piece of pinkish, drooping and frankly unsanitary-looking rubber between his thumb and index finger. To anyone over the age of fifteen, it was immediately recognizable as a used condom.

"Protection," he sighed, dropping it in the trash bin, "we used protection." He walked back to the bed and sat down, wincing again. "That smarts…"

Collins sat up and shuffled along the bed to sit behind Angel, kissing his shoulder and kneading gentle circles into his lower back. "Ang…I am _so_ sorry. I didn't – I swear, if I had been – Oh, babygirl…"

Angel shook his head quickly, putting on a smile for Collins' sake. "It's okay. I'm not gonna make a big deal out of it."

One of the only things about Angel's selflessness that annoyed Collins was his inability to realize when he should care about himself. Annoyed and confused, Collins got ready to snap at Angel to hopefully bring him back into a semi normal state, before he glanced down and gasped. "Angel; you're bleeding!"

"I'm what?!" Angel asked, shooting off the bed and looking back down. It turned out he wasn't actively bleeding; the scarlet stain on the sheets was dry. But there was no doubt, when combined with the pain Angel was currently experiencing, where it had come from and it only made Collins feel like more of an absolute jerk.

"How bad does it really hurt?" Collins asked.

"It's better than it looks," Angel insisted, shaking his head. "I, uhm…think maybe you didn't go slow enough at first or something. There's not that much blood and maybe something just tore a bit? It'll heal, right?"

Angel trailed off until he was just mouthing words at the floor and finally took a second to look down at himself. He grimaced. "Uh…I think I'm gonna use Mark's shower…" and wandered into the bathroom, the door closing softly, almost distractedly, behind him.

Collins sighed, also getting up and shrugged, beginning to strip the bed. He realized the room must belong to Mark's sister Cindy and also thanked God for the rubber mattress cover that was left over from when the nineteen-year-old had wet the bed when she was a child. If worse came to worse, the remains of staining would just probably be blamed on the girl's menstrual cycle.

After sneaking down the hall to shove the bedclothes in the washer, Collins came back into the room to see Angel pulling on her clothes from yesterday, but cocked her head to the side when she found her blouse had half its buttons popped off. She glanced over at Collins, who located his button-up shirt from yesterday and untangled it from the tee-shirt he'd also been wearing to hand it to her. She nodded in thanks and buttoned it up, sitting down at the desk chair – wincing once again – and looked up at him.

They stared at each other for a few minutes, and the way her big brown eyes looked so confused and desperate all of a sudden made Collins himself feel completely helpless and made him want to cry at realizing he was the cause of that. A memory made not so long ago floated back to him now and he winced, shaking his head and placing it in his hands.

_Collins chuckled, brushing one of his knuckles over her cheek and murmuring, "I could never hurt you. You know that, right? That I'd never hurt you?"_

_Angel nodded against his shoulder. "Yeah; I know."_

He glanced up through his fingers and seeing the same look still there asked, "You're not really okay with this, are you?"

"No," Angel whispered, shaking her head. "But…your first time's supposed to be with someone special, right? Well, it was…I just can't remember it…"

Collins padded over and knelt before her, rubbing her knee. Gently he placed his finger under Angel's chin and urged her to look up. "Angel, you don't even know how sorry I am right now. I never wanted anything like this to happen."

"I'm not gonna make a big thing out of it," Angel insisted, genuinely thinking she was pleasing him by saying this. Instead he stood up quickly and let out a small growl.

"Why do you have to do that, Angel?!" he questioned loudly, and Angel frowned while shrinking herself further back into the chair.

"Do what?" she asked, raising a thin eyebrow and crossing her arms. "I'm telling you I don't blame you and you're yelling at me? What do you want from me, Tom?"

"I want you to yell at me and slap me and cuss me out in every fucking way you can in English _and_ Spanish!" he cried, waving his hands frantically. "I want you to be so angry with me you can't see straight! I broke my promise, Ang! I hurt you! I want you to react to that like a normal person instead of…instead of being this saintly person all the time! Blame me! Blame me for taking all the innocence you have left and hurting you in the process! Hit me, slap me, and call me names! Do anything but sit there like some detached –"

The sound of skin smacking forcedly against skin sounded throughout the room and Collins was suddenly staring at the wall to his left with an aching cheek.

"There!" Angel cried, wringing her hands, "would you shut up now?! Please?!"

Collins rubbed his jaw and stared at Angel with shock, before nodding and beckoned her closer. Nervously, she stepped closer and he stretched his arms out in front of him, sighing when she stepped into him and allowed his arms to encircle her. "We've got nothing to worry about, at least. I'm not sure where the condom came from but this is Mark's adult sister's room so I've got some ideas; the condom was pink after all…"

"I think that was blood," Angel mumbled, and Collins winced for what felt like about the tenth time that morning, before just burying his face deeper into Angel's wig.

"…I'm sorry I yelled."

"I'm sorry I slapped you."

"I deserved it."

"Yeah; you kinda did…"

"And I am so, so, so sorry I hurt you," Collins whispered, his eyes stinging in a way that made him squeeze them tightly shut. A tear slipped loose and landed on Angel's wig and she reached out and wiped the tear away, suddenly not afraid to show him her own. "Can you forgive me?"

"We were both drunk," Angel reminded, shrugging.

"That's not an excuse and you know it," Collins sighed. "Maybe we should both go easier on the alcohol?"

"That's a good idea," she consented, stepping away. "And I forgive you, Tom."

"It'll never, ever happen again," Collins promised.

"I know," she replied, smiling. She took his hand and led him downstairs to wait for the others to wake up.

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One good thing about being a Cohen was that when you had an impressive tolerance for alcohol. At least, they were pretty sure that it came from his father's side – though for all they knew it could have been a Hoffman (his mother's side of the family) trait. Mark could usually remember most of his drunken escapades, and didn't get hangovers like everyone else. Usually, if anything, he was just excessively cranky for about the first half hour of waking activity. This morning, he woke up with Roger laid across his carpet and snorted as he stepped over the rocker to get to the door.

He passed most everyone on his way to the kitchen, but didn't even bother trying to wake them; it would be fruitless and he knew the smell of cooking eggs and brewing coffee would wake even the soundest sleepers and coax them down. He got out the whole carton of eggs and cracked all twelve of them into a huge mixing bowl, figuring he could just make a huge batch of cheesy eggs. This was his hangover special; the coffee woke everyone up and the eggs would be easy on the stomach which would hopefully settle stomachs and keep anyone from upchucking.

He heard creaking on the stairs and wondered who had joined him but didn't want to take his eyes off the eggs, so just mumbled, "Coffee's in the pot, Aspirin's in the cabinet and the Pepto-Bismol is in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom."

"Thanks for that," Tony snorted while lifting himself onto the counter closest to the stove. Mark poked him with his spatula to get him to scoot over because he didn't want to burn him while taking the eggs off the stove and flipping them onto a large serving platter. "But I didn't drink nearly enough to need any of those things right now."

Mark nodded as he walked the plate over to the table and sat it down.

"Are you feeding a small third-world country today?" Tony enquired, grinning.

"Nope, just seven hung-over teenaged bohemians," Mark replied, pulling out everything anyone would want on their eggs. He knew for a fact Maureen liked syrup and Mimi and Angel liked salsa, and raised a brow at Tony while enquiring if he took anything on his eggs.

"Catsup," he replied and Mark's brows flew even higher on his hairline, but he ducked into the fridge to find it anyway. "And Jared likes jelly so get that for him."

"You hear something?" Mark asked, cocking his head towards the upstairs. He was sure he'd heard momentary bellowing just then but it appeared to have stopped.

"All I hear is Iron Lungs Johnson in there snoring up a storm," Tony said, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the living room where Maureen sprawled across one sofa while Mimi hung off the other. "Has she always snored like that?"

"Pretty much," Mark replied, shrugging. "I mean, since I met her when we were like five she hasn't let up on the snoring." He stepped back and stared at the eggs and then slapped his forehead mumbling, "I forgot – Angel and Mimi are going to want tea."

"Really?" asked Tony, frowning, "I don't think I know of someone who doesn't drink coffee in the morning."

"They do; they just don't like the type my mom buys," Mark informed while stretching his body as far as it would go to reach above stove to the cabinet containing the tea. "They said it…has a weird…aftertaste…oh shit," he cursed as the tips of his fingers just grazed the glossy packaging and shoved it farther back onto the shelf where his hand had no hope of reaching it. "Tony, there's a stool over there – could you shove it over here?"

"Here, I'll just get it," Tony said, hopping off the counter and reaching over Mark's head. His fingers easily reached the box and tugged it off the shelf with no obstacles, and he smiled while handing it to Mark. "There you go."

"Thanks," mumbled Mark, whom was all too aware of his flaming cheeks. He withdrew the kettle from another cabinet and filled it with water, placing it on the stove to boil. He then turned and regarding Tony and with a raised eyebrow enquired, "How do you know Maureen, anyway?"

"She comes to practice a lot," Tony said, shrugging. "That or she just shows up at Roger's on a lot of Saturdays and Roger doesn't have the heart to turn her away. She apparently gets lonely a lot? Yeah, I don't know. Doesn't seem like someone that social would have a problem making new friends but you never know."

"The popular clique wanted to recruit her for five minutes in sixth grade. Until she got up on the table and started singing "Memory" from _Cats_ at the top of her lungs. Then she fell off on top of Collins and Roger helped them both up and the rest is history."

"Popularity is overrated anyway," Tony consented.

"Agreed," Mark replied.

"And they're all just idiots."

"Amen."

"Though it's gotta be good to have the money they seem to flounce…"

"No shit."

They both laughed and it appeared they managed to wake someone with the raucousness of it because there was suddenly a lot of creaking from the stairs. Mark looked up, and his giggling started anew when a not-so happy-looking Collins and Angel entered and Collins slumped into a chair at the table. He laughed, "I take it the alcohol didn't treat you well in the long run!" and pointed to the coffee while pulling a chair out for Angel, gesturing to it.

"Uh…thanks, Sugar…I think I'll stand, though," she mumbled and wandered over to the screeching kettle, pulling down a mug and filling it with water. She glanced around, obviously looking for something, and asked Mark, "tea?"

Mark reached across her and lifted the tea from the counter top right next to her, chuckling, "If it was a snake you'd be dying, Angel. What's up with you this morning, anyway?"

"Uh…just kind of tired," she mumbled, dipping a bag into the cup distractedly. "Got cream and sugar?"

Mark again pointed to a very obvious place (the table, this time) to the two condiments, at the ready for the coffee-drinkers too. "You don't look good, though. Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm tired, Mark, okay?" Angel grumbled, jabbing the bag too quickly into the tea and sloshing it. "Isn't someone allowed to have an off day? I feel _fine_. I'm not about to keel over before your eyes."

Taken aback, Mark had no response which he figured was better as Angel angrily stirred the sugar and cream into the tea and mumbled something about fresh air before sweeping out of the kitchen. Angel's idea of an off day was getting her favorite skirt dirty or falling down a lot in one day. Not being pissed at the world and ready to snap which she seemed, to Mark at least, to feel like today.

"She PMSing or something?" asked Tony, giggling a bit at his joke. It fell flat and he realized neither of the other boys in the room found what he'd just said the least bit funny. "Really man…what's up with her?"

"Wish I could tell you," Collins sighed, looking down at his plate, which Mark had put some eggs on. "But she'd kill me ten times over if I did, so…"

"So you do know, you just won't tell us?" asked Mark, raising a brow.

"Yup," Collins replied. "And you need to drop it, Mark."

"Did you two have a fight?" Mark asked in sympathy, sitting down beside the anarchist and placing his hand on his arm comfortingly. "I thought I heard yelling from upstairs earlier. Was that you two? What was it about?"

Collins glared at him. "No, there was no fight, and even if there was, why would I talk to you of all people about it?"

Mark scowled and tugged his hand away and said, "Because I'm a friend! I'm only asking to see if I can do something! Maybe talk to her. I've known her longer than you have, Collins. There are things about her that I know that even Mimi doesn't."

Collins scoffed, "I doubt that, Mark."

Mark sighed, shrugging. "Maybe; but living in the same cabin for a whole month every summer since we were nine does result in learning things." He had Angel had always been put in the same cabin due to the closeness of their last names: C – Cohen, and D – Dumott Schunard.

"I just dunno, man…I did some things and…I felt really bad and kinda snapped at her for it," Collins sighed, picking at his rapidly cooling eggs.

"Apologize," Mark told him.

"I did. Like three times," Collins said. "And I don't really think it's me she's mad at. I don't really think she's mad at anyone. I think she just needs to think about some things right now, you know?"

"Yeah," Mark replied, shrugging.

"Mm…yummy eggs…" mumbled Maureen as she walked in with Mimi following, both looking a bit worse for wear. Maureen got her eggs and dumped a generous amount of syrup on them before chomping them down with a vigor unseen outside of a soup kitchen.

"Where's Angel?"

"Outside, blowing off steam," Tony reported, cocking his mouth to the side and standing up to finally get a cup of coffee. "Maybe you could talk to her, Mimi? You're really good friends, right?"

"Only the best evers," scoffed Maureen, rolling her eyes. "They're attached at the hip, I swear! They're like freaky, unrelated twins or something!"

"I could try talking to her, yeah," Mimi told him, ignoring Maureen's ranting and filling two plates with eggs. She glanced at the window and seeing the snow was still blowing around, put the eggs back on the counter – cold eggs were disgusting. "Uh…I'll be right back inside."

With that, she grabbed her coat from the hall and made her way to the patio. Here she found Angel staring out into space with her arms wrapped around herself to conserve warmth. Mimi came up from behind and slung an arm over her best friend's shoulders, enquiring, "What's up, chica?" gently and rubbing her shoulder.

"Oh, hi Mimi," Angel sighed. "I thought you were Collins for a second. Uh…nothing's really wrong. Just some things are going on and I need to think for a minute."

"Oh, don't give me that," Mimi commanded, pulling Angel to the patio table and forcing her to sit down on the chilled metal chair. Her fellow Latina winced and Mimi frowned. "What's up with your ass? Did you bruise it on something?"

"Don't know what you're talking about," Angel replied stubbornly, and Mimi rolled her eyes. "This thing is just cold."

"_No me dé esa mierda_. That was a wince of pain, girl, and you know it," she replied, even more stubborn than her sometimes knuckleheaded best friend, and she dragged a chair over to sit facing her without the obstruction of the table in between. "So…? Tell me."

Angel sighed and pitched forward to place her head in Mimi's lap, mumbling, "You won't judge me, right Chica?"

"Never," Mimi promised, sighing and dragging her hand through Angel's wig. "I've told you so many bad things about myself, how could I?"

"Okay…" Angel sighed, and quickly said, "Collins and I got pretty drunk last night, and I guess one thing led to another and we ended up having sex in Mark's sister's room."

Mimi gasped and halted in raking her fingers through her friend's hair. "_Iy, mi Dios! _Are you sure? How can you know?"

Angel scowled and shifted a bit in the chair for emphasis. "I think I can tell, Meems."

"Oh, right…" Mimi said, dumbfounded for a second. This was Angel she was talking to, right? Her Angel and not some Alternate-Universe Angel? But her Angel was always so responsible…she shook her head in disbelief. "Wow…just wow…can you remember any of it?"

"Bits and pieces," sighed Angel, sitting upright again, "now that I've thought about it hard enough. He was pretty gentle but neither of us went slow enough so it's as much my fault as his, you know? I really don't blame him…I just wish my first time was under better circumstances."

"Understood," Mimi replied.

"Am I a slut, Mimi?" asked Angel, and Mimi burst out laughing.

"No! _Estás loco_! Why on earth would you think that?!" she giggled, tapping her head a little harder than necessary. "Collins is one guy, Chica! And you love each other to bits! It was only a matter of time, okay? And apparently it took a bit of alcohol to push you and granted it must not have been the best, but there's time to edit that. And if you want, that time could not count."

"I don't think my virginity is willing to come back so I can have a redo," Angel informed and Mimi giggled again.

"True," Mimi replied. "But he already has your virginity. You can pretend it's the first time again when you do it on your own terms."

"Oh…Mimi…it's gone…" Angel whispered, this fact seeming to just catch up to her. "The only fucking thing that kept me innocent…it's _gone_, Chica!"

Mimi knew the issues Angel had with this subject. Both her mother and grandmother had given themselves up early on (Marcia at age sixteen and Marcella at fifteen) and had drilled into her mind the slightly hypocritical command to save herself for marriage. Granted, she'd lasted longer than either of her elders.

"My mom is going to _kill me_," Angel moaned, burying her face in Mimi's skirt again. "_Estoy muerto, Mimi!_ I'm gonna be Angel soup! Kiss my ass goodbye!"

Mimi laughed and pulled Angel's head to eye level. "_No, no eres!_ She's not! I barely think she can get all super-mom on your ass given the recent events in that house of your's. Besides, when _she_ was your age, she was pregnant with you! You're doing way better then your mom, Chica."

"I don't really think I'm going to get pregnant, Meems," Angel grumbled.

Mimi rolled her eyes and continued, "Just tell me this – Do you love Collins?"

"Of course," Angel said, looking perplexed.

"Is he the one you planned on giving it to anyway in the end?" Mimi asked, raising a brow.

"…Yes," Angel replied after a minute.

"Are you happy it was him?" Mimi asked.

"Yes," Angel said. "Yeah…I am. I know he won't just throw it away. He'll…I guess I imagine he'll keep the knowledge he was the first one with him forever and hopefully feel good about that, you know?"

"That's cute," Mimi cooed.

"_Oh, Dios, lo que le pasa a mi?_ I'm just a pile of sap today," Angel sighed. "So about this redo thing? How would I go about doing that?"

Mimi giggled. "_Iy! _Are you asking _me_ how to come onto your boyfriend?"

"Yes," Angel replied without hesitation and Mimi laughed again.

"Okay, so I guess you'd have to pick a special date," Mimi began, sticking up one finger as though making metal list. "Something like…"

"His birthday?" Angel suggested.

"Use that as your fall back," Mimi replied, nodding. "You don't wanna have that whole human-gift thing going but that could work if you do it right. Don't let him touch you before it, though. Don't let him think that just because you've done it once you're ready to do it regularly."

"Have you been reading _Reader's Digest _again, Meems?" Angel groaned.

"Yes, actually," Mimi replied. "And there was a very good article in there about planning a romantic night, which I will cut out for you to use. Anyway. You need to be subtle about it…up until that point, of course. Don't come on too strong, though. Be fully clothed in something comfortable that you'd wear around the house but not necessarily out somewhere. And…uh…be sexy? I dunno. The article didn't really say anything after that but 'light candles and have fun'."

"Well it was _Reader's Digest_," Angel pointed out. "And I guess it helps. Though we'd need somewhere alone…hopefully his parents decide to get out of town for a while again soon."

"Hopefully," Mimi agreed.

"And what are we plotting out here, girls?" asked a nervous voice and Mimi laughed; Collins sounded like he expected one of them to turn and kill him. "Hopefully not my death…"

Angel giggled and beckoned him over, thanking him when she realized he was carrying her jacket. "No. The opposite, actually. Isn't that right, Mimichica?"

"_Si_," Mimi giggled. She stood. "Uh…_Hasta la vista_, Chica!"

With that, she fled to the house. Angel laughed, shaking her head, and looked back to Collins. "So…"

"So," Collins agreed.

"When's the next time your parents are gonna be out of town?" Angel inquired innocently.

"Mid-January some time," Collins replied, furrowing his brows. "They're going up to Maine for mom's birthday."

"Do you think you can kick your sister out?" she continued to interrogate, raising a brow.

"Some way or another," Collins laughed. "What're you planning?"

"You'll see. Your grandma a heavy sleeper?"

"Hurricane couldn't wake her."

"What about an excessive amount of banging? Like, right above or below her head depending on the location of her room in the house?"

"If I asked her I think she'd get a room at the Holiday Inn for the night," Collins assured.

"You have an awesome grandmother," Angel finalized while grinning.

"All the women in my life are fantastic," Collins replied.

"So that's how this is gonna work now, huh?" Angel asked. "I'm officially your girlfriend which makes you officially a heterosexual male. Conformity! Yay!"

Collins laughed and leaned down to kiss her lips. "Your eggs are getting cold."

"Ooh…I have eggs now too?" Angel cracked, and Collins rolled his eyes, pulling her up.

"Yeah, and if you don't eat them quick Mark's gonna have to warm them up and reheated eggs are disgusting," Collins said, before leading her into the house.

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End Chapter; TBC

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A/N: I don't really like this chapter as much as those previous. But I guess this is as good as I'm gonna get now, huh?

HEY! Did you guys know Australia has Drag Queen Olympics? Apparently, Australia really likes their drag queens! Australia seriously just went up on my favorite/most respected places list!

Hugs and cookies to Katie (**Marky's Scarfy**) for the betaing!

Love you all! Reviews would be nice, too!

-Lynn


	13. Chapter 12: A Night to Remember

A/N: *Is the worst RENThead evers* I HAD NO IDEA WHAT LOVE HEALS WAS UNTIL ABOUT FIVE SECONDS AGO!! I'm serious! I had no FREAKING IDEA and I freaked out when I looked it up and heard Wilson (That was Wilson, right? He has a very recognizable voice and I think it was his…) and Tracie (That was definitely Tracie) and the rest of 'em…just…AH!

So yes, Song of the Week: Love Heals – OBC and Tracie and Rosario. (Minus some people because I don't think I heard Anthony and Jesse…) You knew that was coming.

Now, as I discussed this with my beta, she says I'm not going to Fucking Hell (The one with the rapists and pedophiles) for this stuff, i.e. underage smut, but the fun Hell…With the gays and lesbians and drag queens. THANK GOD! :D Then again, I'm going there anyway…being a lesbian is a sin, right? So yeah…that's for not condemning me, Katie! *Mwa mwa kiss kiss love ya*

Also, I saw Seven Pounds recently…it was weird! There's something in my head shouting, "MIMI!" even though it's NOT Mimi! Lol. It's just Rosario…Eep! *loves her and goes spastic as a result* But yeah…it was a REALLY good movie! Even though we rented it and didn't buy it…but I do think we're gonna buy it 'cuz my mom really liked it!

Disclaimer: ME NO OWNIE! Jonathon Larson (Amazing, wonderful, late Jonathon Larson) brought this all to life and inspired me, and millions of others (Most of which were faghags/draghags and teenaged girls but there are a lot of those in the world) and just gave everyone who watched it the ability to forget regret, and the power to live like there's No Day But Today!

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Chapter 12: A Night to Remember

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"Tell me again why I chose to go shopping for this with you instead of Mimi?"

"Because I'm the queen of all things naughty and sexy and you know it?"

"Oh yeah…"

Angel sighed as she was dragged bodily into Victoria's Secret by Maureen, followed by a just as exasperated Joanne, who wasn't exactly sure why she'd been dragged along, except for maybe input. When they had set out that day, Angel had been more expecting to buy mood-setting things, not actual lingerie. But Maureen had immediately made the expedition into something of her own creation.

A salesgirl looked up when they entered and frowned, obviously wondering if they were old enough to be shopping in the store. Angel knew that to people who didn't look at her correctly she looked all of fifteen, but she had tried to mature her appearance today and she looked her age atleast.

"Okay, so what color looks best on you?" Maureen asked, still dragging her around. Angel was just barely keeping up, much less could she try and answer but Maureen eventually slowed in the middle of the lingerie section.

"I have no idea…," sighed Angel, shrugging. "I'm a winter complexion…so…"

"Oh, then we're the same!" cried Maureen, hopping up and down and grinning. "How about we start with black and work our way up the line?!"

Just so Maureen wouldn't feel the need to attack her (And the fact that she had no fucking idea what she was doing without Maureen) she nodded and Maureen chirped, "Great!" before dragging her to the end of one color-coded isle.

Twenty minutes later and they had yet to find one thing that suited her.

"First of all, Maureen," Angel sighed, throwing yet another outfit back at the drama queen with only one glance at the thing. "Half the stuff you're throwing at me is fitted. I have nothing to put in those things, sweetie," she pointed to the fitted bodice, making a face. "Second…white has_ never_ looked good on me. I don't care if I'm a winter, a spring, or a fall. Please, don't show me anything else that's cream or pearl or ivory or whatever. It's all white, okay Sugar? Third… This isn't working! I don't see why I can't just…I mean, I'm _sure_ I'll look just as good in a pair of boy shorts and a tank top! That's basically what some of these things are! Besides, I can't be spending twenty or thirty bucks on a pair of underwear I'm gonna wear once…"

"Angel, shut up," Maureen advised, covering the blabbering Latina's mouth. "I'm buying. This is your Christmas present from me, honey. And you're _gonna _wear it more than once, trust me." She snorted and stood Angel up, dragging her to the customer service outlet which also doubled as the check out.

"Hi," Maureen greeted the woman behind the desk. "We need some help?"

She smiled and looked up, adjusting her glasses which were attached to a chain. She looked way to matronly to be working in this environment to Angel. She looked as though she really should have been working at a library or as a school teacher. "What can I help you ladies with?"

"My friend here," Maureen said, gesturing to Angel, who blushed a bit and made a small wave. "She's, as you can see, very lacking in the boobs area. I wanted to know if there was anything we could try that isn't fitted."

The woman (Gladys, her name tag revealed her to be) examined Angel's chest very closely before looked back up into their eyes. "Yes, I can see that. You may want to try a slip. Those aren't fitting though they are more like a nightgown than actual lingerie. Most of them do have matching panties though."

Maureen smiled brightly and nodded, taking Angel's hand once again and dragging her back towards the suggested section, leaving Joanne to slowly wander after them while looking at some things herself.

"Okay," Maureen sighed, crossing her arms. "You're in charge of lighter colors, and I'll look at darker ones. If you find one you like, we'll see how it looks, m'kay?"

Nodding, Angel went off to look at the lighter colors while Maureen examined darker ones. Five minutes later, Maureen let out a squeak and ran over, ambushing Angel with a long purple number and held it up to her, cocking her mouth to the side in decision.

Angel shook her head and held up a short, carnation pink one, more like a cami top than anything else, and the matching hi-cuts, with lace trim in a slightly lighter color of pink.

"Ooh…silky…," Maureen mumbled, running her fingers over the fabric. "You're trying this on, girl."

"This drag queen is not appreciating being dragged so much today, Maureen!" Angel cried as she once again found herself being pulled through the store, this time to the dressing rooms.

"I just have a feeling that if I left it up to you, you wouldn't follow," Maureen informed, sweeping Angel into once of the stalls. "Now change!"

Angel sighed and changed into the top, and was actually surprised that she liked the way it looked on her. It just barely covered her mid-drift and had spaghetti straps on it. She ran her hands over the satin and smiled when it caressed her fingers like liquid silk.

"Are you done?" Maureen trilled from the other side of the door, and Angel sighed, stepping out. Maureen grinned. "Ooh! I like it! One second…" she turned in the direction of the rest of the store and cried, "Pookie! Come here, we need your opinion!"

Joanne came slugging through the store two minutes later and furrowed her brows as she approached. "I like it."

"You think she looks sexy?" Maureen asked, straightening the tiny bow on the neckline.

"I'd say so, yeah," Joanne replied.

"Would ya do her?" Maureen asked, giggling at her girlfriend's look of disgust. It appeared that even in drag Angel wasn't feminine enough for the complete and utter lesbian among them.

"What kind of question is that?!" Joanne asked, blinking rapidly.

"Never mind," giggled Maureen, before herding Angel back into the dressing room, chanting, "We're buying that, Angel Dumott Schunard, got me?!"

"Yes, Maureen," Angel said, suddenly a bit afraid.

"Next stop," Maureen sighed, grinning evilly, "Walgreen's!"

"What's in Walgreen's?" Angel mumbled through the door.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Maureen cackled, and Joanne groaned, obviously knowing _exactly_ what was at Walgreen's.

* * *

"Okay, that's great! Bye Mom, bye Dad, see you in a week!"

Suzan's eyes widened as she was quite literally shoved towards the front door by her son. Jessica had mysteriously asked to go to her best friend's for the night an hour ago and they were dropping her off before they set off for Maine. Grams was visiting an old friend in the city for a few days so that would mean Tom would be alone at the house alone for a while, which meant even more sticky notes tacked to the refrigerator and precautions to be taken, including giving him a complete list of numbers – Grams' friend's home number, his father's mobile number, Jessica's friend's number, the hotel's number – that she felt he would need and many other things.

"I get the feeling you're wanting us gone for some reason?" Clayton chuckled, swinging a duffle bag over his shoulder.

"You think so, Clay?" Suzan giggled in return and headed towards the door. "Just remember, Tom – everything you're going to need is either stuck to the fridge or the phone and we probably won't be at the hotel until sometime late tonight so if you need anything today you should call your father's mobile phone, okay?"

"Yup," Collins replied.

Getting that she was no longer needed in the house, Suzan turned and opened the door, halting and blinking in surprise when she saw none other then Angel Dumott Schunard on the other side of the door, poised to knock.

"Mrs. Collins!" she cried, clutching a brown bag to her chest. "I didn't realize you were still here! Tom said you'd be leaving some time this morning…"

"We were supposed to but there were some setbacks," Suzan replied. She turned back to the rest of the house. "Tom! Angel's here to see you!"

Collins poked his head out the kitchen and grinned, waving her inside. Angel looked to Suzan for permission and upon receiving it with a nod, brushed past her into the house, joining her boyfriend in the kitchen where Jessica was perched on the counter chewing on a carrot stick as Collins stood in front of her, appearing to be giving her a lecture.

"Now there's twenty dollars in this for you if you do it right, kid," he bribed, grinning. "This'll get you a really pretty dress, m'kay? Just behave for Vanessa's parents and don't make them make me come get you."

"I'll be good," Jessica grumbled, rolling her eyes. "Why do I hafta though, Tommy? I – ANGEL!"

She hopped down from the counter and tackled the Latina around the legs. Angel gave Collins a bemused look as she patted down the girl's braids and handed her bag off to Collins, introducing it to him as their lunch, then picked Jessica up and settled her on her hip. "Hey, Jessie! What's going on, sweetie?"

"Nothin'," Jessica mumbled, resting her head on Angel's shoulder and giving her the Saddest Puppy Eyes That Ever Were, which she used to bribe everyone from her mother to Tom to her teacher. "But Tommy said I have to go to my friend's but you're gonna be here and why can't I stay?" Jessica and Angel had grown very fond of each other, almost like a sibling relationship except without all the banter and insults and yelling.

"Because…uh…," Angel was apparently having a hard time explaining to a seven-year-old the libido of seventeen-year-olds. "You wouldn't be interested stuff we're going to be…doing…"

Collins laughed uproariously and ruffled Jessica's hair. "Yup, squirt. So you'd just better leave. We're gonna be talking about boring grown-up things, 'kay?"

"Grown-ups are boring!" Jessica chanted, squirming around in a signal for Angel to let her down. She then rushed out of the kitchen and with one last shouted command to "stay safe!" Collins' parents and sister were gone and with a groan he collapsed against the counter. "Uhg! I thought they would never leave!"

Angel chuckled and hopped onto the counter Jessica had recently vacated and pulled Collins between her legs, grinning at him. Her clothes today were a pink hooded sweatshirt with a YMCA logo on it, a tight pair of boot-cut jeans, and her purple Converse Low-Tops. "So, lunch? And…uh…"

"Mmm hmm," Collins agreed, nuzzling her neck gently. "You just tell me, Ang, okay?" he took to searching through the bag, asking, "What've we got here?"

"My mom made some stuff," Angel replied. She hopped off the counter and began to pull out several plastic containers, pointing to each in turn. "Veggie Lasagna made with tortillas" she lifted the lid and there were two slices of lasagna sitting there, and Collins raised a brow. Angel giggled, assuring, "it _is_ Mexican, trust me. This is a salad made of beans, rice, mango, and corn." Two green tortillas filled with some mixture containing lots of rice and beans. "It's really good. Those are spinach wraps, that's why they're green. And _pastel de chocolate_." She lifted the lid to reveal two slices of chocolate cake and Collins chuckled.

"Your mom cooks veg?" asked Collins while he put one of the pieces of lasagna and one of the salad wraps on his plate. Angel nodded, already walking into the dining room.

"She has a whole cookbook I never knew about," she revealed, coming back in and looking in the fridge for soda. She found Pepsi and poured two glasses of it before reentering and handing one to Collins. "Something like, 'Meatless Mexican'."

They ate and chatted happily and as it was a late lunch (And the middle of winter) the sun was setting before they finished. While they were washing the dishes, Angel glanced out the window and saw in the light of a street lap that it had begun snowing. She giggled and pulled Collins' sleeve, requesting, "Look baby! Kiss me, it's beginning to snow!"

Collins laughed in return and turned the faucet off, turning towards her to take her in his arms and kiss her sweetly. He started to pull away but she mumbled, "Where you think you're goin'?" and pulled him back to her, cupping the back of his head and reattached their lips, slithering her tongue along his bottom lip. He tightened his arms around her and opened his mouth, twining their tongues together and letting his fingers trail to the hem of her hoodie, ducking his hands under and caressing the warm skin underneath.

They broke apart for air and Collins trailed kisses down her neck, causing her to gasp and cup the back of his neck, moaning his name, just a preview for when she would hopefully be crying out in a few short moments.

"Tom…Oh, Tom…," she moaned. He lifted her onto the counter so she was more even with him (She wasn't wearing heals today) and she took the advantage to wind her leg around his waist. "Yes…" her neck, especially the back of it and behind her ears were major erogenous zones and she had the vague suspicion that if he kept lapping and nipping at them like that, she'd just about loose it all on the spot. "Uhg…Collins! Bed, couch, anything…"

Seeing she was becoming nearly incoherent, Collins stopped his ministrations and glanced into her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yes!" Angel gasped out. "Please…"

He nodded and deftly swept her into his arms, making her squeal a bit and giggle with glee as he carried her to his room, depositing her on the bed with the utmost gentleness and covered her body with his, being careful not to rest too much of his weight on her. Suddenly, it wasn't hot and fast but warm, soft, gentle, and slow. He brushed the strands of her wig out of her face and peppered small, loving kisses all over her face while trailing his hands down to pop the button on her jeans.

"Not just yet," she gasped, thoroughly enjoying the foreplay and knowing that when they really got started it would all be over much too soon. She did allow him to lift her sweatshirt over her head, though.

He smiled what he saw what she wore under her shirt. She made that familiar keening noise in the back of her throat when he caressed the fabric covering her chest with one large hand and bit her lip to hold back a moan as his fingers caught a nipple. Smirking a bit at her reaction, he tweaked it again and was rewarded with a little, cut off noise.

"Uh…not to break the moment," Angel mumbled, glancing around. "But there's some other things in that bag in the kitchen…condoms and uh…" she blushed and giggled a bit when Collins sighed and reluctantly pulled away to run into the kitchen and seize the bag before hurrying back to the room.

She had shucked of her jeans and her eyes were fluttered closed. She lay splayed on the bed and was gently caressing herself through her panties and Collins gulped, walking back over to the bed and setting the things down before sitting on the bed beside her and covering her hand with his, smiling gently when her eyes shot open and she blushed hotly.

"Sh…," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her and slunk his hand into her panties, letting his hands whisper along her heated flesh and felt himself harden, his jeans becoming tight in the front.

Angel tugged on his shirt a bit, urging him onto the bed and he broke away, taking off his shirt and pants before crawling over the covers, trying to arrange himself in such a way that he felt wouldn't make Angel uncomfortable. Angel spread her thighs apart in invitation and he all but tumbled to rest between them, making Angel laugh a bit at their awkwardness. The breathless chuckle reassured Collins and seemed to egg him further on. He tugged on the waist band of Angel's panties and questioned, "Can I?"

She nodded and lifted herself to make it easier for him to pull them down her legs. There was an awkward second where he stopped and wondered how he was going to pull them off all the way without moving and Angel slunk her leg out of one of the holes and slid them down her other leg, kicking them off her ankle and grinning when they landed on the blue piggy bank on Collins' desk.

"We have censored Mr. Piggy successfully," she giggled, wrapping that leg around his waist and hissing when her now bare skin brushed against the fabric still covering him. "Take those things off, if you would please." To enforce this, she hooked a toe in the waistband, enjoying her newfound flexibility.

Once Collins was successfully ridden of his underwear, they again found themselves staring at each other with the unspoken question of 'now what?' in both their eyes. Collins took it upon himself to begin the actual thing and again trailed kisses down her neck and she moaned loudly, pushing him away, blurting, "I swear, Tom, if you kiss my neck like that anymore I_ might_ orgasm right now."

He couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. Angel pouted and he stopped (how she could still make him feel guilty when he was turned on as hell he didn't know) and ran his hands up and down her thighs in apology.

"That feels nice," she mumbled and he nodded, locking that away before reaching towards the nightstand. Angel's breath hitched and he looked back towards her, to see her face contort into one of determination. "Ready?"

"Are you?" he asked, popping the bottle of lubricant open. "I'm not the receiving party here. This is all about how you feel for a while, Ang. I'm not gonna hurt you again."

"I thought we agreed we'd never speak about that again," Angel scolded, and he nodded. "Okay, what you have to do is put one finger in and then two and then three and when you think I'm…uh…prepared, you can…you know…"

He nodded and dribbled some of the lubrication onto his fingers, circling his index finger over Angel's entrance until he thought it would be warm enough and pushed it in. Angel gasped and her leg tightened around him. "That hurt?" he asked in panic.

"No, no," the Latina shook her head. "It actually feels really good. Do another."

"Ang, are you sure…?"

"Yeah. Please."

He nodded and added a second finger; thrusting them into her a few times before she told him he needed to scissor them and he did so, to quiet hisses from her. "Bad or good?"

"Uh…not pleasant," she mumbled at the burn, "but nothing horrible. Just keep doing that for a minute…"

He nodded and kept maneuvering his fingers in and out of her until he pushed in a little too far and she let out a loud sound and her back arched. Shocked and concerned, he pulled his fingers out altogether and asked, "What hurts?"

"Nothing…that felt _amazing_," she gasped, her eyes shining brightly with wonder. "What did you do?"

"I have no idea…," Collins muttered, and they spent the next few minutes trying to replicate it and even though the burn turned into a delicious twinge, it was nothing like the waves of pleasure that had rippled through her that time.

"Okay, I think I'm ready," she breathed after she'd adjusted to a third finger. She reached over to the bedside table and fumbled with the box of condoms, finally tugging one out and ripping it open. She rolled it on and spread some lube onto him as well and he moaned as her hands unconsciously teased him. After this, she rested back against the pillows and waited for him.

He pressed against her entrance with the utmost gentleness and slowly pushed in. Angel moaned at the stretch and burn and requested a moment to gather herself before letting him push in the rest of the way.

They stared into each other's eyes for a few minutes and Collins caressed her and whispered gently to her to relax while trying to hold back on instincts and thrust into her. Being inside her felt absoloutly exquisite; like the finest velvet massaging him with every gentle twinge she gave. Eventually, she nodded and he pulled out a bit and thrust back in, making her moan which he took as a good sign and pulled out a little bit farther the next time.

Soon, Angel was moaning loudly and crying out his name just like that morning in her room months ago. She cried out particularly loudly at one point and gasped as he trailed a hand down and gripped her, running his hand along her tightly.

"Tom…I…," she breathed, before she cried out, her back arching and her toes curling, digging into Collins' back. Collins winced a bit (that girl's toenails were sharp!) but as he himself felt her climax via her rippling passage, he felt insane pleasure and with one final thrust, he released into the condom.

They sat there panting for several minutes and he eventually pulled out of her, rolling off the condom and throwing it in the waste basket before settling on the bed beside her. He pulled her into his arms and whispered softly to her, kissing her all over her face while she came down from her high.

"That was…you're just…I…," she stopped trying to talk and simply rested her head against his chest, laying there until they both stopped panting and were thoroughly enjoying the afterglow. "Well…it was good for me."

"Me too," he assured, running a hand through her wig which somehow hadn't come off durring it all. He pulled it off and kissed her real hair, whispering, "I love you so much, Ang. You know that?"

"_Te amo demasiado,_ Tom," she returned and cuddled close into his side, relishing the feel of skin on skin contact. She giggled, "We're sticky."*

He chuckled and got up, walking into his bathroom and searching through the cabinet before locating a washcloth, wetting it, and coming back into the room to clean her skin of all sticky substance. She giggled a bit at the touch, and rolled towards the other side of the bed, informing, "I think I'm laying in a wet spot."

Collins nodded and covered it with a blanket, assuring, "it's only a little one," while climbing on the bed and taking her back in his arms. "It's no big deal. I'll be washing these sheets long before my parents are back. Speaking of which, are we always gonna have to wait for my parents to go away to have sex?"

"Would you rather we do it in front of them?" Angel giggled, and then sighed. "I guess we can try to fit it in after school sometimes but I don't want it to start dominating our relationship. And, do a favor for me?"

"Hm?"

"Don't call it sex," she requested and he stared bemusedly at her, cocking one eyebrow up. "Call it…making love. That's what we do, okay? We don't fuck or just 'have sex'…we make love. I sound completely cheesy right now, don't I?"

He shook his head. He concurred thoroughly; when it was them connecting like that, it wasn't meaningless enough to just be called sex. And you definitely didn't _fuck_ a person like Angel. You made love to her and therefore he couldn't agree with her more. "I can fly with that," he assured and she giggled when he placed tiny butterfly kisses along her neck. "And I won't let it dominate our relationship. Only every once in a while at first, right? And then…"

"We'll work something out," she assured.

She yawned and he chuckled, asking, "Nap time for Angel?"

"Nap time for Angel," she confirmed, nodding. "Then…" she kissed him gently and let her eyes sparkle with a little bit of underlying excitement, "round two?"

He grinned and let her fall asleep on his chest, only to follow her a few minutes later.

**

* * *

End Chapter; TBC

* * *

**

A/N: *Readies to dodge flying objects, i.e. hops behind couch* PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! I'm under the impression I did a good job for my first Angel/Collins smut but there's always that one…"You didn't do this right!" or "WTF?! That was horrible!" or, the ever-dreaded (seriously, I got this once and I've been terrified of getting it again) "You over-did it/it was a bit too much" rant. PLEASE BE NICE! IT'S MY FIRST TIME! I'M A VIRGINAL, FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD GIRL WHO'S TRYING TO WRITE SMUT! *wince* And yeah, yeah I know I should have probably started referring to Angel as a 'he' somewhere in there but I'm lazy and it's possible the wig didn't come off! And incase anyone's wondering, there were mobile phones in the early nineties. They were huge SOBs, but they did exist.

And to my beta **Marky's Scarfy** – You are so awesome there are just no words.

Speaking of Mark, if you don't fancy the Mark/Tony relationship, I'm giving you the chance to bow out gracefully now. The next chapter deals heavily on their relationship. :D My beta has assured me she likes Tony! And I like Tony too. Don't dis Tony, bitches. JK.

Translations:  
*"_Te amo demasiado,"_ translates into: "I love you too." Wow…that was a NO DUH moment if I ever did see one…

I love you all and reviews are like freakin' gold! Every single one is cherished and I love everyone who gives me reviews! You will get huge kisses and hugs from me and a hug from either Roger or Angel; your choice. And that "you don't _fuck _a person like Angel; you make love to her" line up there was shamefully stolen from **Det. Flawless**, so yeah that belongs to her! *Hands her credit*: D she's an awesome author too; one of my favvies in the Angel/Collins fandom! *Grin* shameless endorsement, people!

-Lynn


	14. Chapter 13: Family Matters

A/N: So, someone reviewed the last chapter and said that the details weirded them out. Therefore, there will be no more details…or copulation of any kind, really. :D Sorry about that; I tried my hardest to tone it down. Guess I didn't do as good at that as I hoped… And incase anyone noticed, the rating did go up. That's probably why you're having trouble finding it. :D

Song of the week: Just Some Guy – Anthony Rapp. I know! But it's a GREAT song! And it's cute sung by Anthony.

Disclaimer: Jonathon Larson owns everything because he's awesome and made all this! Yup; Angel, Collins, Mimi, Roger…all Jonathon's! And they will all be returned to the toy box when I'm done playing. Unless Jonathon would let me keep Marky…? Didn't think so.

**

* * *

Chapter 13: Family Matters

* * *

**

"I had sex."

These were the words that greeted Mimi when she answered the phone on Sunday morning, still groggy from sleep. She frowned sleepily and furrowed her brows, taking a few seconds to mouth the words and decode their meaning in her muddled mind before she gasped. "Really?"

"Yeah…," Angel sighed from the other end of the line.

"Well…was it good?" Mimi asked, grinning. Despite rumors in school, Angel was the first one of them to loose his virginity and seeing as the actual first time had not been remembered except from hazy images, Mimi hadn't really gotten the whole story.

"How do you mean?" Angel enquired.

"I mean, was it fast and hard and raunchy or just normal?" Mimi asked.

"Slow, sweet…comforting and warm – stop me any time – it felt completely natural, actually," Angel sighed dreamily. "I mean half the time we were kind of just awkwardly sitting there and I felt pretty ridicules, you know? I mean, here I am with my legs spread like I'm gonna give birth or something, and he's got his fingers…well, you know. And it was kind of funny now that I think about it, but…When it came down to it…yeah. Normal and natural and…amazing."

"_Suena muy bonito_! I'm happy for you, Chica!" Mimi sighed, also going off in a day dream. The two friends spent a few minutes completely zoned out of the conversation, and then Mimi asked, "So it isn't any different now?"

"How so?"

"He doesn't look at you…I don't know…differently?" Mimi asked. The one time she'd gotten intimate with a boy – and that wasn't all the way – he'd stared at her like a starving dog would eye a piece of meat afterwards, and she'd not wanted to be treated like that, so had broken up with him.

"Not all men are _cochinos_, Chica," Angel reminded. "And no, he doesn't look at me like a piece of meat like Marquis did you. If anything…he stares at me like he loves me even _more_. Oh, Meems, how the hell did I get so lucky?!" the groan sounded almost fearful, as though her best friend expected to have everything that made him happy yanked away from him.

"You deserve it!" Mimi cried crossly. "How much stuff have you been through, the last few years alone? First, your dad gets married and takes all the money away from you and your mom, and then you get diagnosed with HIV on top of the GID! I mean…Jesus, Angel! _Dése algo de crédito_! God hasn't cut you a break for a while. You deserve some happiness, Chica!"

"You're right…" sighed Angel. "I guess I just sometimes panic and loose my positive outlook. He says that's one of the things he likes about me; the fact that I'm so positive."

"Well it's a good quality of your's," Mimi giggled. "You're the one that keeps me from killing people with that shank everyone thinks I hide under my skirt for later when I go to _work_." She giggled; one of the rumors circulating about Mimi was that she was an exotic dancer at some club in the south side of Scarsdale; an area so dangerous it was considered the town's own personal Harlem.

"Well who else is gonna keep your ass in check, ya hot mess?" Angel giggled.

"Says the trampy trany in the conversation," Mimi replied.

"I'm hanging up now," Angel threatened.

"Fine! My cereal's getting soggy anyway!" Mimi yelled and before Angel actually hung up added, "And Chica, I really am happy for you. Love ya and I'll see you on Monday, okay?"

"Love you too, Meems," sighed Angel, then hung up, leaned against the kitchen counter, and stared ahead broodingly. Then a smile snaked it's way onto his face and he hopped into his room to get ready for the day.

* * *

"Ally, could you not put your Barbie's feet in your mouth?"

Tony sighed and tugged the poor Barbie doll out of his little sister's mouth, wiping the saliva off on his pant leg – it was just baby drool – and handing it back to her. Five-year-old Alisa pouted exaggeratedly and Tony went on to inform, "plastic has no nutritional values whatsoever so you shouldn't include it in your diet." Ally stared at him confusedly. "In other words, Ally, you shouldn't put it in your mouth because it isn't good for you. At all."

Ally sighed and took to making her Barbie walk along the floor, a tiny '_tip, tap, tip, tap_' sounding every time she alternated between feet.

Ally's twin, Andrea (refered to as Andy for short) was trying to hitch a ride on the back of their positively massive German Shepard mix. Andy cried out happily when she successfully boarded him and commanded, "Move, Doggie!" while squeezing his sides as a jockey would a horse. The dog whined in displeasure and simply plopped down where he stood, dislodging Andy, whom squeaked indignantly as she fell to the floor from the unremarkable height.

"You okay over there, Andy?" Tony chuckled, getting up and scooping his tiny sister into his arms. He settled her on his hip and ruffled her hair.

"I'm fine…" she sighed, cocking her mouth to the side in childish consideration. "Why won't Bowser let me ride him?"

Tony laughed and nudged the dog's butt, trying to get him to move from the doorway to the kitchen. "Uh, 'cuz he's not a pony, Andy."

After his tapping was unsuccessful Tony sighed and grumbled, "_Eddai, cane pigro!_ You can't sit there, Bowser!"

"Get up, _cucciolo_!" Ally giggled from across the room, and _of course_ the dog responded to _her_ order. He picked his fat ass up off the floor and padded quietly over to her to rest his huge head in her lap. She giggled and energetically patted his head, crooning, "_Sei un buon cane!_" at him.

Tony sat Andy down on the floor when she began squirming and finally reached the kitchen to start preparing his sisters' lunch – grilled cheese, he was thinking – when a honk sounded from the front of the house. Tony rolled his eyes, thinking it was those rowdy boys from a few blocks down, and stomped through the house and out the door, bent on giving them a good old-fashioned Italian cuss-out, when he saw Roger's car parked in front of his house. He frowned. "What the hell are you guys doing here?"

"Mall today, man!" cried Jared, frowning. "C'mon, we mad these plans a week ago! We're supposed to meet with Angel and Maureen and the rest of 'em? Don't you remember?"

Tony let several unsavory words in Italian exit his mouth and banged the heel of his hand again his forehead. "_Merda!_ I completely forgot, guys!"

"S'okay," Jared said, already making his way up the porch. "We can stick around and wait for you to get ready. Being fashionably late is my thing; remember?"

Tony shook his head. "I can't, man. I've got the twins today. Mom had to go do _something_," he rolled his eyes and scowled at his friends so they got what he was saying. His family was well-to-do, mostly because of his step-father's business which made a fortune investing in ventures that had to do with prospective products on the market. Unfortunately, this meant that Jeremiah (or 'Dad' as his mother tried to enforce him calling the blonde-haired blue-eyed man that everyone with half a brain could tell wasn't his real father) was out a lot. And his mother didn't make it better, using the money up all most at the same rate it came in.

"The munchkins can come along!" Jared insisted while bounding into the house. Andy, upon setting eyes on him, cried, "Jared!" and practically crawled up his body to sit on his hip and grin at him.

Roger entered behind Tony and eyed the girls cautiously. Roger wasn't good around small children, and small children were nervous around Roger so they were good at keeping a wide birth from each other. Ally waved a bit at him and Andy even smiled at him, but this was because they'd seen him enough at this point.

Tony sighed and eyed his little sisters, mumbling, "I wouldn't want to be a burden on you guys…"

"Nah, it's okay!" Roger took up the convincing him. "The girls all love kids, and I'm sure the guys would understand."

"And we can control Maureen," giggled Jared, which had Tony rolling his eyes at the not-so-subtle suggestion that Maureen was in neither of the aforementioned gender categories.

"What do you think, girls?" he questioned. Both nodded but sometimes they only did that to appease the person making the inquiry. But Andy looked rather eager and Ally looked agreeable enough. "Okay, I guess we'll go."

Jared whooped, making Andy giggle and demand he let her ride on his shoulders. Jared complied and rested her on his shoulders, galloping through the rest of the house and swinging open the door to the closet, tugging her jacket off the hanger and holding it out to her, telling her to put it on.

Ally, being a 'big girl', put her own coat on too, though still needed help maneuvering the zipper. Then they were out the door after Tony had checked that Bowser had food and water, and Tony sat in back with the twins on the silent drive to the mall.

Upon arriving Tony grabbed both girl's hands and guided them across the parking lot, before letting Andy again run to Jared and hang off his shoulders.

Their friends were gathered at the fountain in the lobby-like area not too far from the entrance. Maureen and Joanne were clinging to each other and making quite the spectacle, Mimi and Mark were both giggling behind Mark's camera, obviously finding great amusement in whatever was in the viewfinder, and Collins and Angel sat in one of the black leather chairs gathered around the lobby.

"Finally," Mimi cried upon setting eyes on her boyfriend. "What took you so long?"

"Uh…Tony and the munchkins," Roger replied, pointing to the twins.

Mimi awed and stood up, coming to examine Ally, who burrowed further into Tony's shoulder in response. "Hello, _niña_! What's your name?"

"Alisa…" she mumbled into Tony's blue tee shirt and he smiled and hiked her further up on his hip.

"She likes to be called Ally," Tony informed for her. "And the one hanging off Jared is Andrea, but we call her Andy for short. Andy, Ally, these are my friends; Maureen, Joanne, Mark, Mimi, Angel, and Collins."

Ally regarded Angel with a critical eye while Andy frowned at Joanne, and blurted, "Are you one of those lesbiums?" while Ally cried, "That's not a girl, is it, Tony?!"

Everyone laughed while Tony blushed bright red and scolded, "How rude, both of you! _Non è come quello di porre domande!_"

"It's okay!" Angel giggled while Joanne just waved it off, still giggling. "To answer your question, Sugar, no, I'm not a girl. I like dressing in girl's clothing though."

"Oh, okay," Ally mumbled.

"Tony said that lesbiums are okay even though Mommy says they're bad," Andy informed. "You seem nice."

"Thanks," Joanne replied.

"Andy, you're breakin' my neck," Jared pretended to choke and swung Andy off his neck. "C'mon, girlie. You can walk yourself; you're not a baby anymore."

Andy sighed dejectedly and took his hand, shifting around on her feet as she waiting impatiently for the 'adults' to decide where they were going. The unanimous decision among the girls of the group was to visit Macy's so everyone began drifting in that direction and on the elevator, Andy let go of Jared's hand and pushed her way over to Mark, holding her hands out to him and requesting, "up."

Mark glanced at Tony, who nodded permission and gestured for Mark to pick up the impatient girl before she began throwing a hissy fit in the middle of the elevator.

"So these are your sisters?" Mark asked, smiling at Andy.

"Identical twins," Tony replied. "You don't even want to know the stuff they get away with by pulling switcharoos on us."

Mark laughed and asked, "How _do_ you tell them apart?"

"Well, that one you're holding is Andy," Tony informed. "And they don't look exactly alike; Ally's taller and Andy has longer hair. But you can really tell by their personalities. Ally's really shy and Andy will get in your face."

"Are they your only siblings?" Mark asked.

"No, I have an older sister, Gabriella – Gabi for short – but she's away at college. She's going for her Master's in nursing." They were now lagging behind the rest of the group but the others didn't notice and Tony and Mark didn't feel it critical to inform them of the fact that they were slowly being abandoned.

Tony stopped at the entrance to Macy's and frowned into the store. It was very large; not as big at the outlets in the cities, but large enough. Add to that the hundreds and hundreds of clothing racks and the five floors, and it was a nightmare for anyone who had two+ little bodies to look after.

"Guys, this is a big store," Tony remarked dubiously. "I don't think I should bring the twins in here. Is it okay if I pass on this?"

Everyone either nodded or mumbled, "yeah, sure," and Tony turned to Mark to take Andy from him, only to find him turned towards him, smiling.

"I'll come with you. I'm not allowed to have this in the store anyway," Mark said, gesturing to his camera, encased in the bag on his other side like always.

Tony smiled in thanks – it would be nice to have some company over the age of five – and led them away from the Macy's, over to a map of the mall. He examined it for a minute, trying to locate a little-girl-friendly place, when Ally gasped, squealed, and lunged at the map, hanging out of Tony's arms and pointing frantically to the little "Build-A-Bear Workshop" sign on the map.

"Wanna go there?" Tony asked.

Ally nodded and smiled her little smile at Tony. He glanced at Mark to see if he was okay with it, and was surprised once again to see him also bending over the map, but this time looking at the floor listings. "Uh…Build-A-Bear's on the third floor."

They were currently on the fourth.

"Back to the elevators?" Mark continued.

Tony shook his head. "Andy gets motion sick when they're going down."

"Just going down?" Mark asked amusedly, looking at the twin he held. "That's weird."

Tony shrugged and led the way to the escalators. "I think it has something to do with her inner ear. I don't really remember how the doctor explained it. Basically, if she's in something and it's going straight down, her body thinks its falling and then gets confused because it's standing up. Then her stomach goes wonky and after that it just isn't pretty."

Mark grimaced. "Yeah, I can imagine."

They took about five minutes to find the set of escalators and both girls stared, amazed, at the mall as the people on the floor they were traveling away from seemed to shrink. Right after this, both girls squirmed out of their keepers' arms and ran to the banister, staring through the glass; you could see all three other floors from there. They oohed ahed and pointed. Mark laughed and pulled out his camera, enquiring if Tony minded. Tony shook his head a negative and Mark flipped it on, recording the girls hopping up and down while they played a little game of I-Spy.

"They're very cute," Mark complimented, laughing as Ally spied something that was obviously the fountain from two floors down.

"You'll be wanting to tell their mom that, not me," Tony chuckled, walking over and picking Ally up again. "I didn't have anything to do with their creation. C'mon, girls. You wanna make your bears before or after lunch?" this floor included the cafeteria.

"Now!" they both crowed, and the boys led them to the store, where they were greeted by a perky sales girl.

"Hi, I'm Katie!" she introduced, pointing to her nametag. "Welcome to Build-A-Bear, cuties! Have you been here before?"

Both twins shook their heads and Katie grinned. "Well, this is how you do it. You go over there and pick an animal; they're just flat right now because they don't have any stuffing. Then, you bring it over to me and I'll stuff it just right for you. Then you have to give them an air bath and dress them."

Andy clapped and ran to the bins of different animals, and Ally looked up at Mark, grabbed his hand, and pulling him over saying, "You should make a bear, too. It'll be fun. Will you?"

"Well…I don't know if I have enough money, honey," Mark informed, chuckling a bit when her face dropped comically. He pulled out his wallet and counted out fifty dollars. "Okay, maybe I do." He blushed, feeling a bit ridicules. Here he was, almost fully grown, making a bear. But Katie smiled at him from where she was back behind the counter and he felt it was okay.

Ally chose a black Labrador retriever, Andy chose a bunny, and Mark chose a tiger. Tony laughingly enquired if he should get one, to which the girls replied with squeals of utter joy and took the liberty of choosing a brown bear for him. He stood there, wide-eyed for a second with the limp bear hanging from his left hand, and Mark laughed, patting him on the shoulder.

"I don't think you should have stuck that idea in their heads, Tony," he giggled. "Do you have enough money?"

Tony pulled out his wallet and held up a credit card. "My step-dad has moolah up the wazoo, man. I can pay."

Mark nodded and walked over to the other side of the store, looking at clothing for the animals. "Should I make a boy or a girl, Tony?"

Tony came up behind him and stood in back of him and slightly to one side, leaning against the bin of clothing and resting his hand a little to the right of Mark's right hip. Mark blushed again at the close proximity and played with his animal's arms, just to have something to do with his hands.

"Well…what's the first name that pops into your head for the animal?" asked Tony, resting his head on Mark's shoulder. "The first name that pops into your head, that's its gender."

Mark thought for a second then chuckled. "Okay, this is really stupid. But the first name that pops into my head is Tony. Like Tony the Tiger."

"Oh, like frosted flakes?" Tony laughed. "Well, if you wanna name your stuffie after me, I don't have a problem."

"Nah," Mark said. "I'll name him…Anthony."

"You could still call him Tony, then."

"That's the point, darling."

Tony laughed and, after a second of consideration, kissed Mark's cheek. Only, Mark turned his head to inquire upon something else just before Tony's lips made contact with his cheek, so he ended up kissing the corner of Mark's mouth.

"Kissing!" chanted Andy and Ally, "ew!"

Katie laughed and came over to kneel before the girls. "You ready to stuff them?"

The twins nodded and carried their animals over to the stuffing machine while Mark and Tony finished picking out clothing for their animals. Then they switched, Mark blushing up a storm as he was asked if he wanted to hold down the peddle that controlled the amount of stuffing that went into the animals like they did for the kids to make them feel like they had a part in stuffing them, too.

"No, uh…I think I'm okay," Mark chuckled, and Katie laughed back, holding down the peddle herself and filling it until Mark squeezed it and found the amount of stuffing ample. He was asked if he wanted his animal to make a sound, and inserted a little knickknack that was going to make the Tiger purr when squeezed into the stuffing. Katie then instructed him to take a tiny stuffed heart from a little tub of them next to her. He was to kiss it, and put it in the animal before she tied it up. Mark did that, choosing a white and red stripped heart and kissed it. He allowed Ally and Andy to kiss it too when they offered, as they had kissed each other's, and laughed when Tony took it from him and kissed it as well. "It's my animal, you know!"

"Don't worry; it just has lots of love in it, now," giggled Katie as she tightened the pre-made stitches that ran back and forth across the gash in the animal's back where the stuffing had gone in.

"Now you can dress it, and go fluff it," Katie said, pointing to a table with large shower-head like things on either side. Mark walked over and pressed down the peddle, and laughed when the air rushed through the heads, fluffing the fur as it blew over it. Mark ran his hand through the fur and aided in the fluffing, before taking his foot off the peddle, gathering the clothes up, and changing the animal into them. The tiger was now dressed in a blue sweater, brown pants, and tennis shoes.

"Anthony the Tiger," Mark announced to Tony, making the animal head-butt him. Ally and Andy ran up and made their animals kiss both boys, saying, "MWA!" with each peck.

"Markus the Bear," Tony replied, holding up his own bear. This bear was wearing a red hoodie with "Love is the stuff inside" on it, black jeans, and blue sneakers.

Mark scowled playfully and hit Tony's arm. Ally and Andy giggled at the sight of their brother being abused.

"You have to make birth certificates for them, too," Katie informed, gesturing to the computers lining the back wall of the store. "And when they're done, they'll print out here and then you buy your stuff."

Ally and Andy nodded and hoped to the computers, beginning the process of entering the names. Mark sat down at the chair (Which was way too small for anyone over the age of ten) and entered all the information needed.

Andy's bunny was dubbed Bonnie and Ally named her's Cookie. She then bugged Mark, after telling him the name of the animal, if he wanted to know why she'd named it that. When he complied with the five-year-old's wants, she told him, "It's short for _cucciolo_. That means puppy in Italian."

Mark nodded, smiling, took his Tiger from Katie, now in a little cardboard carrying case he supposed was supposed to look like a house, and walked over to wait with Tony. Tony, whom was apparently feeling daring, leaned into Mark and slipped an arm around him, his hand resting on the strawberry blonde's hip.

They decided to wander back over to Macy's to see if the others were done yet, and found them waiting in front of the store, obviously also on the looked out for the missing members of their group. Roger raised a brow and Jared burst out laughing, roaring, "Build-A-Bear?!" loudly, slapping his knee and laughing his head off.

"Shut up, man," Tony mumbled as Ally and Andy frowned at the ridicule. "It was the twins' idea…"

"What'd you get, Marky?" giggled Maureen, pointing to his carrier. Mark reached in and pulled out his tiger, making it wave. She waved back and held out her hands, wanting to hold it.

"How cute," Mimi cooed when Ally offered to let her hold her puppy. "What's her name?"

The little girl hugged her jean-skirted puppy dog and said, "Cookie."

"Mine's name is Bonnie," Andy said defiantly, shoving her bunny in Collins' face. He laughed and waved at it.

"Its name is just Bunny?" Angel asked.

"No, Booooonniiiie," Andy replied, petting down Bonnie's pink sundress. "Like with an 'oooooh'."

"What about you, Tony?" Roger laughed. Mimi hit him over the head, which made him stop and mumble, "Sorry, baby…"

"This is Markus the Bear," Tony sighed, displaying Markus for all to see.

"And Mark? What's your Tiger's name?" Joanne asked, who was now squeezing the tiger and laughed when it made the noise Mark had decided to put in it.

"Anthony," Mark replied, taking it back from her and putting it in the carrying box again. "I wanted to name him Tony like the Frosted Flakes Tiger, but I couldn't because of, you know, Tony."

"I told you, you could have named it Tony if you wanted to," Tony insisted.

"But it would have been weird!" Mark chuckled back. "To have a stuffed animal named after my…uh…friend."

Tony shrugged.

"Aren't you two dating?" asked Maureen, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you like way more than friends?"

"Well, I mean…" Mark started.

"Marky, he's your boyfriend," Maureen insisted. "So call him as such. Now who wants lunch?"

At the mention of that word someone's stomach rumbled loudly (And everyone had their suspicions of who it was as the rumble seemed to center from Collins and Angel was giggling up a storm.) and the twins gave shrieks of consent while waving their hands above their heads and running in the direction of the cafeteria. Jared and Roger hopped up, telling Tony they'd get them, and ran after the kids.

Mark smiled at Tony, and shyly reached out, grabbing his hand. Tony nodded, grinned, and pulled Mark in the direction that everyone else had already started off in, once again abandoning the two at the back of the group.

And Mark, always longing for community and a group to belong to, didn't really mind being abandoned this time.

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End Chapter; TBC

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A/N: Yeah, yeah, shut up! I don't care; there have been crappier endings to chapters out there! And I thought Mark and Tony were cute. I'm sorry if you didn't like this chapter. I felt the need to pontificate on this relationship. And I'm PMSing. Don't mess with me. Too much info? Haha - thought so.

Some reviews would really hit the spot. I love you all! No, really! AND THANKS SOOO MUCH TO **MARKY'S SCARFY** MY BETA! Katie from the Build-A-Bear shop up there is supposed to be her. I'm not sure if I got the characterization right, but we'll see. Lol.

-Lynn


	15. Chapter 14: Will I Wake Tomorrow?

A/N: Okay, I know it's Sunday, and I haven't updated at all this week. I am so sorry; I just haven't had the time! Really, I do apologize. And I may have been putting off posting this for fear of the reaction…

Now, the events of this chapter may be too much for some people to handle. There are some quite scary factors to it, so if you don't fancy reading this, I intend to write the next chapter in such a way that you can skip this and still have it make sense. And please, know that I'm not a deranged psychopath. I intend to reproduce none of this in real life. I'm not a terrorist. I'm just someone who is trying to make her story interesting by not doing something that has been done over and over again. Thanks for understanding and taking into consideration the tiredness of most plotlines these days.

Song of the Week: When You're Gone – Avril Lavigne. I love it; I can imagine it as Collins' daily internal dialogue after Angel dies. D: Sad, but a very good song. And a very good music video, too!

Disclaimer: Jonathon Larson (RIP) owns everything. I only own Tony, Jared and the plot. And maybe some other things you don't recognize but probably not! Let's just say I don't really own anything? Because, technically, Tony is my sister's and everything else is really the product of my muse (Jesse…Yes, muse is named Jesse…he had that name before!) and since my muse isn't a person, it had no way to write this stuff…so I'm the thing that allows it to do just that! Seriously…if it weren't for my muse I probably would have lost all purpose in life quite a while ago…

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Chapter 14: Will I Wake Tomorrow From This Nightmare?

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Something was obviously against Angel getting to school this morning. Maybe that something was his cat. First, Chico got hold of his stockings and he had to chase the cat down the stairs, through the living room, and under the dinning room table. Needless to say, they weren't in a wearable state when he finally got them back, resulting in him having to reconsider his entire outfit. Then, the same annoying cat hacked up a fur ball in his shoes. He growled at him and almost literally kicked him out of his room, nearly crying when he saw the massacred state of his black stilettos.

All the while, something was tugging at the back of his head that told him he really didn't want to go to school today for whatever reason. It was in all probability the Astronomy test he was most likely going to fail…badly. He'd stayed up until four-thirty the previous night to study for it and was exhausted on top of it all. He shook his head and plopped down on his bed, placing his head in his hands. He was never going to make it to the bus now; it arrived at seven-thirty and it was currently seven-fifteen. It would take him atleast ten minutes to get dressed and another ten to get to the bus stop. He frantically raked his hands over his cropped hair and winced when his fingers dug painfully into the skin of his sensitive scalp. Inspiration struck then and he ran for the phone on his desk, tapping in a number and biting his lip until the dial tone stopped and someone answered, "Hello?"

"Collins! Hey baby. Uh, I need a favor," he sighed, sitting down in the chair at his desk. "I'm gonna miss the bus. Would you mind driving me to school?"

"Yeah, sure I can," Collins replied, sounding worried. "What's up, Ang? You don't sound good. You're not sick, are you?"

"What?" Angel asked, frowning; his head was a bit clouded from sleep deprivation. "Oh. Oh! No, I'm not sick baby; just a bit out of it today. Don't worry." Collins had shown quite an obsession with Angel's good health lately. It was annoying at times (Like a few weeks ago when he fretted up a storm about Angel dragging him out to roll around in the snow for a while) but also endearing. It also reassured Marcella, whom had always worried about someone being there to watch out for Angel where she couldn't. And it was understandable. In Angel's condition, a simple cold could prove tragic. "I didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night. And I don't think I stayed in bed for all of it, either." He'd woken up in the guest bedroom, and while it was possible he'd just mistaken that one for his in his exhausted haze, he knew stress always made his 'special ability' rear its head. If he was correct, the baby gates had gotten a chance to serve their purpose last night. "If you know what I mean."

"Yeah," Collins agreed.

"I'll be there in a few minutes, okay?"

"No, I'll come by. I'm heading out right now. Be there in a few minutes, okay?"

"Okay," Angel replied, giggling a bit at the unintentional quote. With a murmured, "Love you" he hung up and crossed his arms, staring at his room. There was no way he'd have enough time to dress how he wanted, now. Instead, he just grabbed the first two things he laid his hands on – a white Sex Pistols 'God Save the Queen' tee-shirt and a pair of tight, faded jeans – and threw them on, tossing his bright orange coat on and swinging his backpack onto his shoulders before clomping down the stairs and into the kitchen, to find his mother staring at him with displeasure.

"You're gonna be late, Angel," Marcella scolded, holding a Pop-Tart out to him. "I was just about to come up to see what was wrong. You'd better run if you're going to catch that bus, _Mijo_."

"_No quise decir que; _I woke up late. And Chico was misbehaving. I called Collins; he's gonna come pick me up," Angel sighed, snapping off a little corner of the Pop-Tart and chewing it slowly. "Did you toast this?"

Marcella shook her head, and examined Angel's attire. "What, no drag today?"

Angel shook his head and mumbled, "Wouldn't have time." He walked over to the toaster and dropped his barely-nibbled breakfast into it, putting it on its lowest setting and pushing it down.

A honk issued from the street at the same time that the Pop-Tart popped out, and he grabbed it before kissing his mother's cheek and running out into the chilly early-March morning. The chill went right through him and the wind was blowing right in his face, so he choked a bit on his own air as he ran to Collins' car, nearly diving in and sticking out his tongue when Collins laughed at him.

"How about a 'morning, baby!' for your boyfriend?" Angel grumbled playfully, leaning across the bench seat to peck Collins' lips. He tossed his bag between his legs, buckled his seat belt, and sat back as Collins pulled away from the curb, taking a bite of his (now chilled again) Pop-Tart.

The strangest part of the morning came when Angel got out of the car and was hit with such a wave of unease that he had to lean against the car for a second to calm himself. Collins was at his side quickly, holding a hand to his forehead, which he waved off. "I'm fine, really. I'm just really, really tired today."

Collins looked dubious, but he had learned several lessons regarding Angel's temper, one being that it could be sparked at the strangest moments by the weirdest things; especially when the Latino was already bothered by something. And if Angel really was sick, he'd have lost some color by now and, if anything, Angel was looking more colored than he had all winter. He let it go and simply seized Angel's hand, guiding him over to the picnic table under the tree where everyone was already congregated. Mimi and Roger were being as outrageous as ever, Mimi on top of Roger (she would later inform that it was to 'make room for Tony') and Roger with his arms tightly around her. Joanne, never a morning person, was looking irritable sitting next to a gabbing Maureen. It was obvious the senior badly wanted to tell her girlfriend to shut up, but didn't out of fear of staring a fight. Mark and Tony were next to Roger and Mimi, grinning at each other as they openly held hands atop the table. They'd long ago gotten over the awkwardness that came with a new relationship. Jared was asleep next to Joanne, his head in his arms.

"There you guys are! We thought you were skipping!" Maureen cried, waving her hands in Collins' direction. "But if one of us skips, all of us do! Isn't that right, guys!"

The four original members of The Pact (Roger, Mark, Collins, Maureen) all nodded and laughed a bit, remembering sixth grade when they decided that, as best friends, they must do everything together.

Mimi climbed her way out of Roger's lap to come hug Angel, giving him a weird look when she noticed the absence of a wig and blouse. Even though Angel had gone fourteen years without dressing in drag, it was weird for Mimi to see him out of it anymore. "What's with you, Chica?"

Angel shrugged, pulling a smirk. "Would you believe I didn't feel like it today?"

"Nope," Mimi replied curtly, popping the 'p'.

"Didn't think so," he sighed, giggling right along with his best friend. "It's a long story, though. And it ties in with why I missed the bus. Basically, my cat was being a bitch this morning and stole my stockings, made me chase him around, then _puked_ in my shoes so…"

"It wasn't the green ones, right?" Mimi asked, knowing a fit was in store if the cat had gotten to Angel's favorite leggings.

Angel shook his head. "Thank God, no. And I _almost_ put those out last night, too. It was the pink ones."

Mimi nodded, knowing Angel's mild aversion to pink and also knowing they wouldn't be missed terribly badly. "Well, that's good. And those jeans might as well be stockings the way they fit, girl."

Angel laughed and glanced down at his legs. "Yeah, well. Gotta show your assets when you have them." It was decided between the two Hispanics that if Mimi was allowed to have the best ass, Angel had the best legs. And when Maureen wanted in on the deal, they allowed her to have the best boobs.

"And assets you have," giggled Mimi, "second best ass."

"Second best legs and boobs," Angel reminded. "Thankfully, you have no competition for second in the boobs department."

Mimi laughed.

"Yes, you all have great body parts!" Joanne grumbled irritably. "It's widely agreed upon. Now, Mimi, stop waving your first-place ass around or Roger's gonna have a problem. Angel…Are those jeans dress code appropriate?"

"Don't think so," he replied. "But who's ever cared in this school anyway?"

"This is true," Joanne consented.

The horrible outside bell made its loud, metallic ring and everyone groaned, perfectly in unison, and Tony reached across the table, hitting Jared on the head. Jared jumped awake and frowned at his best friend, popping his middle finger up before stomping off after Roger, already walking ahead, hand-in-hand with Mimi.

Angel couldn't help but worry something bad was ahead for them all. He'd always had a sort of sixth sense for disaster, and the uneasiness he was feeling had to mean something. But he tried to act normal for Collins' sake, who was still glancing worriedly out of the corner of his eyes at him as they followed behind Mimi and Roger, also holding hands.

Choir went by without catastrophe; in fact, it went better than usual. They got through their songs without too much complaint from crabby students who got the short end of the stick by being sorted into the vocal class against their will because they didn't get the elective they wanted.

Oh, no. It was the one class they all had together – Health 11 and 12 – in which all hell broke loose. Health was the one class where you could fall asleep and not miss anything. The whole class was just one huge campaign for safe sex and a straight-edge lifestyle. And once a year there might be a project – like the classic "bag of flower baby" one – and then there was the end of year test, but that was it. Jared took advantage of this and was asleep before many people were even in the classroom.

Many popular kids were in this class, and they sat in front of the class while the group of friends sat in back. Angel sank down in his seat when one, a jock and one of Angel's regular tormentors named Laurence McIntyre, sighted him and grinned, raising a brow. "Oh! Finally realized you're not a girl now, have you?"

Angel scowled heavily at him and sunk farther down in his chair, grumbling, "Fuck off…"

He wasn't the only uneasy one, he'd found. Mark sat in his chair two rows away, on the other side of Roger from Angel, arms crossed and staring with furrowed brows at the blackboard. Angel faced the back of Mimi's head so he couldn't exactly tell what his best friend was thinking, but her shoulders were hunching way more than normal. The atmosphere was tense and it was as though the very room was waiting for something to happen.

Laurence flicked his head and Angel flopped around in his seat, slapping away Laurence's hand in a rather spastic movement. He then sunk so low that his eyes were barely peaking over the table and Laurence grumbled, "Spaz…" while wringing his hand; their fingers had knocked together painfully.

He felt a gentle hand on his back and smiled a bit, covering Collins' hand on his shoulder with his. He glanced over his shoulder to see a worried face and sighed, shaking his head, mouthing, "I'm fine" at him.

The teacher, Mrs. Lovett, entered just then. Mrs. Lovett was a perky, somewhere-in-her-late-twenties woman whom had married early and, at that moment in time, was extremely pregnant. Her hair was a practical feather-cut and she was the very definition of 'glowing mother'.

"Morning, everyone," Mrs. Lovett greeted, smiling and placing her many binders down on her desk. "This morning, we'll be talking about The Miracle of Birth."

Everyone sighed and plopped their heads down on their hands, or desks, or arms.

"It'll be the start of our new Life Science Unit, which will hopefully take us all the way to May, just in time for the final exams…"

Something flicked Angel's ear and a piece of paper appeared in his peripheral vision. He took it and saw in Collins' neat handwriting: _What's up with you today, girl?_

Angel sighed and wrote back: _Nothing. Something just doesn't feel right but I don't know what it is._

_What do you mean?_

_I just feel like something's about to go down._

_My advice is chill. Nothing's gonna happen and if it did, your man would protect you._

Angel giggled and scribbled a response and was holding it over his shoulder for Collins when Mrs. Lovett noticed their note-passing and asked, "Angel and Collins? Is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

"No, ma'am," they both replied in unison, Angel pulling the note under his desk and crumpling it up.

She sighed and got up with difficulty, holding her hand out and Angel reluctantly placed the balled up notebook paper in her palm. She opened it and everyone sat up a bit straighter, hoping to hear something gossip-worthy. After a minute, Mrs. Lovett cleared her throat and scribbled something on the note herself before replying, "You're right. It's nothing."

Angel took back the note, shocked, and opened it to see what had been written on the slip. Under his reply of, _I can fight my own battles. I'd kick your ass for that if I didn't love you so much. _was the teacher's reply of, _I'm letting you off this time, but I won't hesitate to read it to the class, next time. Save the confessions of love for after school, okay?_

Angel giggled a bit and handed the paper off to Collins just before an announcement came over the loudspeaker and Mrs. Taylor, the office secretary, said in what sounded like a determinedly calm voice, "Attention all teachers; you have a red memo in your mailbox. Please check them immediately."

Everyone at school knew what this meant. It was the code for a lockdown red. Lockdown reds typically meant turn out all the lights, and all the students gather in an area where they wouldn't be seen if someone glanced into the room.

"Okay, everyone," Mrs. Lovett cautioned. "Uh…go to the back of the room and try to get as close together as possible…" as she said this, she closed the door and turned out the lights. There was a multitude of scrapping chairs as everyone ran to the back of the room and huddled in one of two corners. Angel tried to feel out Collins in the dark and ended up locating Mimi instead, whom grabbed onto him in the absence of Roger as well. Joanne and Maureen were gathered close together not far away and Tony and Mark sat cross-legged next to each other, mumbling to each other casually. It wasn't bad enough to have too many worried; they had a lot of drills because they were so close to a bad part of New York. Mimi was an exception, though. It didn't take much to have the girl scared out of her mind in a situation like this, and Angel wasn't long behind once Mimi had lost it.

"How long do you think we're gonna be in this?" Jared remarked.

"Who knows," Roger mumbled, and Mimi immediately crawled towards the source of his voice, crawling into his lap. Roger chuckled and ran a hand down her back. "Hey, it's okay Meems. Nothing's happening. Think on the bright side; you might get outta that Astronomy test!"

Mimi giggled a bit.

"Collins!" Angel hissed, trying to search out his boyfriend and only managing to seriously offend Tony when he landed in the Italian's lap. "Where are you?"

A hand came from the darkness and grabbed his elbow, dragging him in the direction of where he supposed his lover was sitting. He was then pulled into Collins' lap and hugged tightly. Angel sighed contently and leaned into the embrace.

Everyone jumped as something banged and they glanced around the room to see what had fallen. Seeing nothing, they glanced at each other and raised their brows. Then another bang and it was obvious the something hadn't picked itself up and fallen again. Someone screamed as the terrifying truth came to them and Mimi let out a cry and lapsed into hysterics.

"Tom!" Angel cried in alarm, clinging to him.

"Shush, Ang," Collins comforted. "I'm here…shh…"

Another bang and everyone screamed, Mrs. Lovett's voice begging them to be quite drowned out by the noise. A few girls in a corner began to pray, and everyone huddled closer together. Joanne had Maureen in a tight embrace, both gasping for breath as they held off tears. Collins was trying to hide Angel under his arm, pushing him tight against him and gripping the Latino in such a way that said he was preparing to take him and run when necessary. Mark was slowly and subtly positioning himself in front of Tony and Roger had blatantly pushed Mimi in back of him. Jared gripped a pencil as though ready to attack someone with it and it would have been funny had it not been for the circumstances.

"It's getting closer," Angel whispered. No one was screaming anymore. It was as though they couldn't help but watch their own fate get closer and closer. "Collins, baby, I love you."

"Shut up, Angel," Collins growled, "don't you dare think like that."

There was a break in the fray of bangs, then a hole big enough for someone to stick their head through appeared in the door and everyone screamed bloody murder, getting up and ready to run. The door stood ajar and a figure with a gun stepped into the room.

Several things happened all at once. People hopped up and began running, bullets began flying, and Angel went skidding across the floor when someone who was running knocked him out of Collins' arms. Mrs. Lovett was yelling, "RUN! RUN! JUST RUN!" and everyone was following her direction. Angel attempted to get up but kept being run over. He eventually crawled away from the fray and stood, preparing to sprint for the door.

His attention was then drawn when the shooting stopped and someone shrieked louder than the others. A girl had tripped and fallen and was laying prone, right in front of the shooter. Seemingly mindlessly, the shooter pointed his gun down at her and prepared to pull the trigger. Without even thinking about it, Angel barreled towards her, pulled her up, and ran towards the door, literally dragging her along behind him he was running so fast. His only mindset was to get them both out of there as fast as possible and in one piece.

When he had gotten to the hallway, he stopped and helped her stand straight up. She stared at him with shock and was whimpering, "Thank you, thank you, thank you…" over and over again as though repeating that mantra was the only thing anchoring her sanity to her.

Angel nodded, and ushered her towards the double doors at the end of the hall. "Go, honey."

The girl nodded and ran like hell, following the flow of students out the door. Angel stood, frozen, in the middle of the oncoming traffic. He knew he'd seen Maureen and Joanne get out; both girls had pushed their way out of the room when all the chaos first started and Angel couldn't blame them; better to be selfish and safe than in danger and heroic. But he didn't know about the others. He was pretty sure he'd seen Jared's mane of hair while he as running but what about Mimi, Roger, Collins, Mark, and Tony?

Two questions were answered as Mimi and Roger appeared running down the hall and before Angel could say anything Roger had seized his hand as well as Mimi's and was barreling towards the door, pulling the two Puerto Ricans behind him.

"_¿Quién salió? Están todos bien? _Mark, Tony, Collins_?_" Angel questioned frantically.

Mimi shook her head and Roger said, "Dunno," having gotten the basic question.

Some people were running and just kept on barreling down the street and others had collapsed where they stood once they got outside. Most had run to the park across the street, away from all the madness. There were frantic screams issuing from the group, most names, but some cries of help for the injured. They entered head-long into the fray and searched frantically for their group.

"Collins?! Maureen, Joanne, Jared?!"

A hand shot through the crowd and grabbed Angel's elbow, dragging him left and Roger and Mimi were dragged along as the result. The color and size of the hand brought Angel to the conclusion that he was being led by Joanne. He was pulled all the way to a break at the back of the crowd where their little group was gathered around the shade of a tree.

"Oh, there they are!" Collins cried in relief. They'd obviously sent Joanne on a scouting mission. "Thank God!"

"God don't have anything to do with it," Angel sighed, running into Collins' arms. He allowed him to pat him all over, looking for any injuries. Upon finding none, he just hugged him tightly and sunk to the ground.

"Mark and Tony aren't with you guys?" Mimi murmured, her face horror-struck. "Did anyone see them get out?"

"No," Maureen sighed, shaking her head. "They were still in the room when Joanne and I left, but we were some of the first ones out of there. What about you guys?"

"Frankly, I was just concerned about getting Mimi and I out in one piece," Roger sighed, sounding a bit ashamed now that he had a chance to think about it. Angel leaned across and rubbed his shoulder, smiling a bit. He nodded and patted back. "What about you?"

Angel shook his head in unison with Collins and Collins murmured, "Where'd you go, Ang? I lost holda ya."

"Someone knocked me away from you," Angel replied. "And you ran outta there." He had the somewhat selfish urge to ask why Collins hadn't waited for him even though it would have been dangerous if he had.

"I know, I'm sorry," Collins murmured. "But I thought I had you; someone was hanging off the end of my jacket and I thought you were following behind but it turned out to be Maureen."

Jared was hopping up and down, looking out for any signs of his best friend and Mark. He kept on yelling, "Tony! Mark!" over the roar of the crowd as though he thought they were just lost in the crowd somewhere and everyone hoped that was the case. But their hopes were squashed when someone finally started yelling back but it was a cry of, "Jared! We're over here, we need help!" from Mark.

All the others began running in that direction, shoving many people out of the way, but most were too shell shocked to notice and those who weren't didn't care; they were shoving just as many people in their attempts to get to their own friends.

Some students had created a circle and when they ran into it they found Mark on the ground, holding a screaming Tony, whom was clutching his thigh and biting his lip hard enough to make it bleed. Mark was trying to quiet him and he only replied with whimpers of, "Oh, Mark; it huuuuuuuuurts!" in-between shrieks of pain.

"I know, honey, I know," Mark whispered, tears running down his cheeks. "Just, please. It'll be okay. I…Oh God – Would someone please get help?!"

Laurence, the football player from Health, stood and started running down the street to the corner where a payphone was located. Maureen knelt down beside Mark and enquired what they could do while tugging off her shirt.

"Honeybear, what are you doing? You'll freeze to death out here!" Joanne cried, taking of her sweatshirt and swinging it around Maureen's shoulders.

Maureen shook her head, pushing her tee-shirt to Tony's leg and hissing, "Gotta put pressure on it or he'll bleed to death! He's been hit in the thigh; he's probably had an artery nicked or something…God there's a lotta blood here. Tony, bend your knee, okay sweetie?"

Tony whimpered and hiked his knee up, a few tears leaking down his face.

All the while, Angel felt a sort of numb calmness take him over; as though he was watching the scene from someplace far away and detached. There was something in the back of his mind that said he should be trying to help; that his close friend (whom he'd been worrying his head off about five minutes ago) was in danger. Or, at the very least he should be crying and trying to squirm away from the scene as Mimi was. But he just stood there and continued to float in his fog.

"Angel – you okay?" Collins asked, after glancing at his boyfriend and noticing his flushed, dazed appearance. He was caught between trying to help Tony and looking after Angel, whom he felt insanely guilty towards already.

Angel turned his head towards him and blinked a few times, mumbling something and turning back to the scene as though with some sort of sick fascination.

"Ang? C'mon, talk to me baby," Collins said, shaking him. His skin was unpleasantly hot, which it really shouldn't have been in the forty-seven degree weather. In panic, he began searching over Angel's body for any unseen injuries and found none. Angel didn't even notice except a little bit of annoyed waving when Collins tickled him a bit.

It was a bit of a daze for everyone after that; a literal caravan of ambulances arrived and Tony was one of the first to be loaded up, Jared and Mark hopping into it behind them. Then the police arrived just in time for the shooters – three in all – to appear on the front lawn and shoot themselves in front of everyone. Parents then started arriving by the hundreds, frantic about their children but with no way to find them.

Marcella Schunard was at the front of the crowd of parents, trying to locate her son and his friends. She succeeded in finding Mimi's mother, Lynda Marquez, but there was no little frizzy-headed sixteen-year-old accompanying her, so they just stuck together, knowing where one of their children was, the other wasn't far.

The crowd dispersed as more and more parents found their children and Marcella finally caught sight of someone familiar; a head bobbing above the rest, capped with a black knit cap. She started yelling the name of her son's boyfriend and he looked up, recognition igniting in his eyes immediately and he was at her side in an instant.

"Hi, Ms. Schunard," he breathed, and pushed Angel in front of him. "Your mom, Ang, c'mon now."

Marcella took her son in her arms and he whimpered, burying his face in her neck and whispering, "_Mama…mi'ama_…" over and over. She just clutched him and soothed him with the same sounds she had when he was a tiny baby just come home from the hospital.

"I think he's in a bit of shock," Collins sighed, distancing himself a bit out of respect; he still wasn't exactly in the family circle yet. "He doesn't seem too aware of anything right now but it's worn off a bit. He wouldn't even talk earlier. You should take him home; one of our friends is in the hospital but there isn't much we can do right now. My parents know I'm okay and they're waiting at home so if I can get my car, I should get home."

Marcella nodded.

"I'll see you, Ang," Collins murmured. "I'll be by later hopefully. You gonna be okay?"

Angel nodded, sniffing and wiping his tears away. "Yeah. I'll be fine. I love you, okay baby?"

"I love you too," Collins whispered, completely forgetting for a minute that Angel's mother was standing right before him. But all she did was smile, and nod as if in approval before leading Angel gently to the car and closing the door behind him once he'd eased down onto the seat. She then turned back to Collins, kissed both his cheeks and said, "_Gracias_, Collins," before patting his shoulder and getting in herself, driving away.

**

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End Chapter; TBC

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A/N: I get the feeling I'm gonna get a lot of shit for this. Am I right? Yeah, I thought so. If you don't mind, please tell me what I did wrong and if I offended you, I'm sorry. I've never been in a school shooting and therefore I only know what happens from the discovery channel and after-school specials. Uhm…don't kill me, please.

I bet some of you are happy it was Tony and not one of the bohos. You're horrible people. JK.

I looooove criticism! Please, be a critic! Tell me if it was horrible or if you loved it and why! I will not break; I'm not glass and I can handle anything you throw at me! Flames will be danced in and promptly doused, so throw anything you want at me! I'm a big girl now; I'm prepared!

This chapter was, once again, beta'd by **Marky's Scarfy**! *hugs*

-Lynn


	16. Chapter 15: Aftermath

A/N: Hope you like this chapter…I'm thinking only five or six chapters after this, so that should bring us to what? Twenty, twenty-one? Yeah. Well, yeah. Please read the end A/N; it's important! :D

Song of the Week: Believe – Cher. I LOVE CHER. So not kidding. LOVE HER.

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT. Jonathon Larson brought all of this to life and his memory will never die in the eyes of his millions and millions of devoted fans!

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Chapter 15: Aftermath

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Waking up in a cold sweat, it took Angel a second to realize he was screaming his head off and a few more to stop. Two people appeared in the doorway – his mother and grandmother – and rushed to his side, one taking him in her arms while the other rubbed his back, making soothing hushing noises.

"Hush, Angel. _Estás bien, estamos aquí, que estás seguro. Era sólo un sueño, dulce corazón_," his mother soothed. *

Angel swallowed harshly and clung to his mother tightly, laying his head on her shoulder and nuzzling his face into her neck. "Sorry. I…"

"It's okay, _miel_," murmured Abuela, still patting his back. "You've been through a lot."

"Uh…what time is it?" Angel asked. He could vaguely remember waking up in much the same fashion several times durring the night. The light streaming in through the window gave him an idea but it was coming in at an odd angle.

"About two o'clock," Marcella replied.

Angel furrowed his brows. "In the morning?"

"In the afternoon, _Mijo_," chuckled Marcella.

Angel's eyes widened and he hopped out of bed, staring at his elders incredulously. "What? Why did you let me sleep so late? I…I…"

"Angel, calm down," Marcella said, standing up and rubbing his arms. "_Usted no tiene que ser en cualquier lugar_; there's no school today – you're not going to have it for a while. Uh, Mimi's downstairs, watching television. I told her you were asleep but she wouldn't leave so I just gave her some breakfast and a blanket and set her up on the sofa."

'_Thank God for Mimi_,' Angel thought, while putting on a thankful smile for his mother. As much as he loved his mother and Abuela, Mimi was someone who he could just sit with, not being asked if he was okay every five minutes. Mimi would let him cry without wanting to know the most in depth reason for it, and would cry with him. With this knowledge, he eagerly made his way down the stairs, plopped down on the sofa, and drew his knees up to his chest, resting his head on his knees and looking it his best friend. Mimi, without even being prompted, scooted over and wrapped her arms around him. As comfortable with each other as sister and brother, they cuddled each other, comforting silently.

The opening chimes of headline news rang out and Mimi sighed, having been watching the same stories over and over again for the last two hours. A woman phased in on screen, looking solemn.

"Good afternoon, New York. I'm Abigail Adams with today's headline news. A shooting at Scarsdale High School killed ten and left eight more injured Monday morning. Three shooters charged the school armed with rifles and, one with a military-grade AK-47. All three of the shooters, two of which have been identified as sophomore James McDonald and junior Alan Hartman, killed themselves in front of the school after the shooting. The third shooter's features were completely unrecognizable due to the damage inflicted by the rifle and the forensics lab is waiting on blood results for the identification of the shooter. Here is Angelica Fuentes with more. Angelica?"

They flipped to a picture of a Mexican woman, with long sleek hair standing in front of a school which both Latinas recognized as their school immediately. "Thank you, Abigail. Behind me is Scarsdale High School, the place where almost fifteen hundred children go to school. Yesterday started just like any other day; the students came to school, probably tired from their weekends but otherwise normal. All was fine until exactly nine twenty-seven, when this message went out." At that time, they played a pre-recorded message which repeated the lockdown alert they'd heard yesterday. "The teachers, well aware of what they had to do, gathered their students in the back of the room, locked the doors, turned out the lights, and closed the blinds. The shooting began at approximately nine thirty-one in the library, where a tenth grade math class was testing on the computers. The shooter was McDonald, wielding his father's hunting rifle and a handgun. Three of the ten deceased students – Allison Saunders, Michael Sparks, and Juan Morrison – were killed here. McDonald also injured Marissa Sanchez before exiting the library and walking along the math hall to the English hall, shooting and killing students Sadie Johansson and Katherine Mead on the way.

"After this, the second shooter, Alan Hartman, entered the gym at nine thirty-five and shot and killed Carmen Montello. He then turned his weapon on Glen Valleys, the gym teacher. She is in critical condition at Bellevue hospital with a gunshot wound to the chest. After shooting Glen, Hartman proceeded to coral all the students into the girl's locker room shower and line them up against the wall, execution style. Four were shot. Two students, Rachel O'Hare and Gary Wilson received minor injuries from their wounds and are recovering, but, unfortunately, two – Tyson Kelps and Carson Elliot – died. Hartman then went to join his comrade, McDonald, in the English hall; we're assuming they were attempting to do this in a three-step plan. While the two congregated in the English hall, a third, as-of-yet unidentified shooter went on to the arts and electives hall and entered the Health Sciences classroom, where teacher Christina Lovett was teaching Health 11 and 12.

"He began shooting erratically, killing two students, Elijah Herman and Antonella DeComilio."

Angel and Mimi both gasped and stared at each other, wide-eyed. They hadn't heard Tony had died.

"Oh, I'm very, very sorry," the reporter said suddenly, eyes wide as though she'd just made a career-ending mistake. "Antonella is_ not_ deceased, but is in critical condition at the hospital. Once again, Antonella DeComilio is very much alive and in critical but stable condition at Bellevue Hospital and I am _very_ sorry for that mistake."

Both Latinas gave cries of relief and clung tighter to each other.

"Also injured were Darnell Williams, Nina Kwiatkowski, Samuel Coors and Enrique Valdes, whom we've heard are all in stable condition and recovering at this time. After the shooting, the shooters all stepped onto the lawn outside the school and shot themselves in full view of the assembled students where they had gathered across the street. The shooting itself lasted only twenty minutes, but it's there are no doubts that for the unfortunate students here, it seemed to last an entire life time. Back to you, Abigail."

Abigail Adams appeared back on screen, the same solemn pout on her face. "Thank you, Angelica. A candlelight vigil will be taking place on the football field, starting at eight o'clock Thursday evening. All are invited to attend and mourn the loss of their classmates."

Marcella appeared in the living room, and seeing the state of her son and his best friend, turned off the television, mumbling, "_No es necesario que se esta viendo_, girls. I think that's enough television today."

Mimi and Angel nodded and simply continued to cling to each other until the phone rang and Angel reached for the set, taking the phone off its cradle and answering, "Schunard residence, Angelo speaking, what may I help you with?" out of habit.

"Hey, Ang."

"Hey, baby."

Mimi pushed her head to the back of the phone and Angel rolled his eyes, telling Collins, "Mimi's here, I'm putting you on speaker phone."

"'Kay."

Once the phone had been placed on the coffee table, now on speaker phone, Mimi voiced their question, "Any news on Tony?"

"He's doing better," Collins replied. "He was in surgery for most of yesterday night but he got out around two o'clock this morning. He's asleep in his room right now, but he's not showing any signs of waking up any time soon and I'm not sure if that's bad or not…We're trying to get Mark to leave, right now."

"Who's we?" Mimi asked at the same time Angel questioned, "You're at the hospital?"

"Me, Maureen and Roger are all here. Jared left a few minutes ago to change and take a nap for a few hours but we're still tryin' to get Mark outta there. Been here for…uh…Mo! What time is it!?"

There was a muffled reply in the soprano of their friend and Collins added, "Two-thirty…so we've been here almost three hours; since visiting hours started at eleven-thirty. If you guys want to we can come by and get you?"

"I can be dressed in ten minutes," Angel promised, already hopping up. "Tom – get Mark outta there. He's going to drive himself crazy. Who's coming to get us?"

"I can come get you when I drop off Mark; Maureen's dragging him bodily out as we speak."

"Sounds great," Angel sighed, halfway up the stairs. "See you then. Love you guys!"

"We love ya too, Ang," Collins replied, "and you too, Meems. See ya."

"See ya," Mimi echoed, and hung up. She waited in the living room for her best friend to reappear and Angel took only seven minutes to change, coming back down in a hastily thrown-on jean skirt and baby-blue blouse, again the first thing she'd laid hands on, and her purple converse.

"Pretty," Mimi mumbled and Angel smiled in return.

"Be back by seven, girls," Marcella pleaded. "And Mimi, you'd better tell your mom where you are; I don't want to get hell if she comes looking for you and doesn't find you."

Mimi called her mom and Angel winced as she heard Lynda's shrieks from five feet away. The single mother definitely didn't want her daughter going anywhere where she couldn't get to her immediately. But after a high-speed argument in Spanish with her daughter, Lynda caved and allowed her daughter to go. But their curfew was upped by an hour.

Both Latinas hurried out and into Collins' car when the teen honked, Angel in the front passenger's side and Mimi behind Angel in back. Angel leaned across the bench seat and pecked his cheek, opting for the more casual move with Mimi's company. "Anything changed?"

"Well, the doctors said that he should be waking up in a few hours," Collins revealed as they pulled away from the curb.

"Should?" Mimi asked, sounding dubious.

"Yeah…he should be waking up in a few hours…if he wakes up," Collins finally admitted and both Latinas shot each other distressed looks.

The rest of the drive was silent, nothing but the sound of softly playing music from the radio Collins had turned on just so the silence wasn't so deafening.

They arrived in the ICU to see Maureen sitting outside the room. She smiled as best she could when she laid eyes on them and stood, hugging the newcomers in a small sign of comfort before they were faced with the reality of Tony's condition. Mimi glanced around, obviously looking for Roger and Angel had to admit that she, too, was wondering where the rocker was. However, it was hardly on the top of her priorities list at the moment so she tugged on Mimi's elbow, assuring that Roger would probably rejoin them shortly.

They entered the room to see the familiar faces of Ally and Andy and the strange faces of two other women – one, a forty-something woman with tired eyes, and the other looked to be her daughter, twenty-something with a short feather cut. They were obviously related to Tony; black hair, olive skin, and thick eyebrows. Quite obviously, these were his older sister and mother.

"Hello," Mimi greeted, holding out her hand to Tony's mother. She smiled and nodded, taking it and replying in a heavy accent. "Hello. My name is Carmen. I am Tony's…ah…"

"My mother does not speak very good English," Gabriella revealed, in a slightly lighter accent and much more understandable English. "We, uh…immigrated from Italy when my mother was pregnant with Tony and he was born here. Forgive us if we are…how do you say it…unintelligent?"

"Unintelligible, you mean?" Angel asked, smiling and nodding in understanding. And Gabriella's firm nod, she continued, "Oh, it's no problem – no one could understand me for a year and a half when I came here from Puerto Rico. And we understand you just fine, Sugar."

Gabriella asked, "You want to see my brother, right?" and walked over to the curtain, pulling it back.

Angel and Mimi had no spectacular reaction to it; just sighed and came to sit on either side of the pale figure on the bed. As Tony's only injury had been to his leg, there wasn't much evidence of his ordeal on his face, but he was pale and tired-looking even in sleep. Both Latinas took a hand and rubbed gentle circles into them.

That's how the room stayed – solemn and silent for the majority of the time – the whole three hours Angel and Mimi were there. They found out where Roger had gone, down to the cafeteria to get snacks, and Collins shared his with Angel after finding out she hadn't eaten since breakfast the previous morning. She only ate a few of his chips, which had him worried. Mimi had refused all offers for nourishment and it appeared even Roger had begun to pick up on her eating (or lack thereof) habits.

"How did you sleep last night?" Collins enquired during a brief period when they were alone with only the comatose Tony as company.

"Not well," Angel sighed, "didn't get to sleep until like four, again, and I had a lot of nightmares…I don't think I walked, which is a miracle…I'm pretty sure I won't be so lucky tonight."

Collins nodded and caressed her cheek with the knuckle of his index finger, continuing to do so even as Mimi reentered from a trip to the bathroom. She mumbled something about the DeComilios having finally gone home when it was apparent that Tony wasn't going to wake up that night, then something else about Roger and Maureen passed her lips before she sunk into a chair and appeared to drift off. The only intelligible word towards the end had been, "Cafeteria" and Angel and Collins both took this to mean Maureen's big appetite had reared its head again and she'd dragged Roger along for company.

"I should get you two home," Collins sighed, taking in Mimi's torpid state and Angel's drooping eyelids.

Angel nodded a bit and stood, tugging him into a standing position and telling him he should probably tell Maureen and Roger of their leaving. As he left, Angel set about waking her friend and pulling her out of the chair. Mimi remained half-asleep all the way to the car, leaning against Angel and dragging her feet as they walked. Angel wondered if Mimi had slept at all the previous night.

They were parked in front of Mimi's house and Angel had just arrived back from escorting her friend up the walk when Collins questioned, "Do you have to be back home just yet?"

"Not for…" Angel looked at the car clock and her brows rose, seeing it was only five-thirty – they'd only been sitting in the hospital for a little over two hours. "And hour and a half, yet. Why?"

Collins smiled a bit at her and pulled away from the curb, and they didn't speak until they parked on a dirt parking lot atop a hill, which would have a very nice view of the sunset in an hour or so. Angel furrowed her brows, sending her lover a bemused glance as he patted her knee and got out, obviously implying that he wished her to do the same and wound around to sit on the hood of the car. Angel joined him after a second, shivering when the cold metal of the car contacted with the back of her bare lower thighs. "What're we doing here?"

"It's just someplace to think, I guess," Collins replied. "I dunno."

Angel nodded, thinking she understood. It was someplace they could be and not be in the presence of others, pressuring them to communicate or talk. They could just sit and think in the presence of someone who wouldn't care what emotions their thoughts brought. "Okay."

Any other night this place would be filled with other cars, all full of lovey-dovey couples that both teens would usually want to distance themselves from. But tonight wasn't a normal night; the last thought on anyone's mind were that of romancing their so-called significant others.

The next hour found a multitude of silence, both of them caught in their own troubling worlds. Then, Angel rolled towards Collins and curled into him, pulling her knees up to the rest of her body and bunching a bit of his shirt in her hand. Her head found that space above his heart and she closed her eyes and listened to the steady beat, reassuring herself silently. So quiet it may have been a whisper on the wind, she whispered, "I love you."

Sniffing a bit, Collins laid his cheek on her head and brushed a hand over her back, whispering, "I love you," in return.

Her whole life, Angel would only see Collins cry (Really cry – not just leak a few tears) seven times. This time, instead of going to comfort like she would in future, she ignored the presence of the tears, letting him have his moment of emotional release by himself and instead steeled herself for him.

One of them had to be strong right now; she didn't mind it being her.

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Tony woke up early Wednesday morning. Everyone was relieved at the news that the Italian was officially out of the woods and that he was coherent and able to keep conscious for measurable periods of time. The news continued to milk the story for all its worth; hunting interviews with everyone from teachers to students. And of course, they were camped out at the football stadium the group of eight friends arrived for the candlelight vigil on Thursday evening.

Many of the students were wearing the same tee-shirts, just plain black with the cryptic word: **REMEMBER** printed upon them. A few students had banded together to make all the shirts and distribute them at the entrance to the stadium, along with candles.

The mood was solemn in the field; there was a low murmur of conversation but there was no energy around it. There weren't any seats to be found; the stadium wasn't meant to hold nearly the whole school's population, plus several hundred parents, reporters, faculty, and community members.

Angel expected the stadium to be rather warm, what with all the body heat, but there was a chilling breezing rushing through the place which actually made him shiver and push against Collins, whom wrapped an arm around his shoulders in response. Mimi and Roger were in a similar position a few feet away and Maureen had one arm around Joanne's waist while the other held her candle. Mark, for once, didn't have his camera. Instead, he had freed his other hand so he could two candles, one for him and one for the absentee Tony.

Angel could sense that the TV camera a few yards away was now pointing at them but made no move to turn towards it. Instead, he kissed Collins' shoulder and the camera operator whipped his camera to face the opposite direction. Angel found a sick sort of satisfaction in that.

Many people spoke; community members, the director of the school board, even the mayor of Scarsdale. Then a few students spoke, including the student council president, Head of the National Honor Society, and the Quarterback of the football team.

Then a roll of all kinds of pictures ran on the large screen erected on the field of many members of the school and faculty; year book rejects spanning all four years of the current senior's schooling.

The best part of it was that at some point; people started making jokes. It was suddenly okay to laugh as much as it was to cry and some people did it simultaneously. They all got the message; 'move on; remember, but move on.'

Classes resumed the next Monday and while some people didn't come, others braved the memories and found them to be survivable. And the world still revolved; the dogs still barked and the trees continued to bloom well into spring. The memories would fad, but the memory of those lost would always be a dent. Even for those who didn't know any of the lost; they would still mourn their loss.

The world, as everyone had feared, didn't end. And things would eventually go back to normal.

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End Chapter; TBC

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A/N: **ALL NAMES MENTIONED ABOVE HAVE BEEN COMPLETELY MADE UP AND I AM SORRY IF ONE OF THEM IN ANY WAY RESEMBLES YOURS. YOU AREN'T BEING TARGETED, I ASSURE YOU.**

Introducing **a ****NEW RENT RP SITE**! It's called The Bohemian Life and can be found at: bohemialives(dot)wetpaint(dot)com! All characters besides Angel and Mark are currently open, so please head over there and register! :D Obviously, you need to take out the (dot) parts and replace them with actual periods. :D

Also, if anyone is curious as to what Tony looks like, there is a link on my profile which shows what I think he look like. We morphed Daniel Radcliffe and Taylor Launder together to get him. Actually, we morphed them together twice with two different pictures of Daniel them morphed the morphs. Katie calls him Super Tony. :D

Thanks so much to **Marky's Scarfy** for the beta'ing! *Huggles*

Before I forget, Translations:  
*_ Estás bien, estamos aquí, que estás seguro. Era sólo un sueño, dulce corazón_ translates into: "It's okay, we're here; you're safe. It was just a dream, sweetheart."

-Lynn


	17. Chapter 16: Dear Journal

A/N: It's not Saturday YET! It's 11:34 so HA! Not my fault you're probably reading this on Saturday… :P And remember about my RP site. Everyone except Angel and Mark are still open; please head over there! We still need a Collins, Maureen, Joanne, Mimi, Roger, and Benny to get started!

There are parts later in this chapter that are insulting. I use some very offensive words and I'm very sorry to all whom it may apply. But it was necessary. And I share none of those opinions, obviously. :D *Hugs you all*

Song of the Week: Memory – Grizabella from CATS. Because we're singing it in choir and it's been stuck in my head for the better part of a month. : P And CATS was just awesome (no duh) so BOOYAH.

Disclaimer: Jonathon Larson (The demigod - may he rest in peace) owns absoloutly everything! He's a genius whom the world will never forget! He brought Angel and Collins and Roger to life and he and they will always live on in all RENThead's minds! Larson bless!

**

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Chapter 16: Dear Journal…

* * *

**

_**Saturday, May 3, 1990**_

_Dear Journal, _

_This has not been a good week for me. Three or four things happened that really pissed me off, and it all started on Saturday after band practice; I had to tell Roger (Whom is half the reason this week has been so shitty) some things I really didn't want to…_

"Could I ask you something, Ang?"

Band practice had let out about twenty minutes previous and Roger, Mark, Angel, and Tony all sat around in Roger's garage, Jared having left about five minutes previous, once again in fear of his mother's wrath. Mark had become a semi-permanent fixture at the practices and the group (meaning Jared and Roger) had even taken to calling him their groupie. It was yet another disliked nickname that Mark took in his stride. Tony had recovered well, though walked with a slight limp the doctors said he'd probably have the rest of his life. It was sure better than loosing the leg, though; or, even worse, not being alive at all.

"Mm-hm," the Latina replied, nodding at Roger from where she sat straddling the stool of the drum set. "What do you need, Sugar?"

"I understand if you don't want to answer, but…" he frowned and scratched the back of his neck. "Is there a reason why Mimi…never eats?"

Angel sighed and glanced down, knocking her drumsticks together as if wondering whether she could tell the rocker in front of her or not. Then she stood, gesturing to Roger to follow her and she led him out of the garage and into the mudroom.

"I don't know if Mimi would be comfortable with me telling you this or not," she began and Roger nodded in understanding. "But I do think you should know so please; just don't tell her about me telling you, okay?"

Again the blond nodded in consent. "Mum's the word."

"Okay," Angel sighed, rubbing her hands together. "A few years ago, Mimi got really skinny and she had to go to the hospital. We were only thirteen and it did a lot of damage and she was diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa."

Roger's mouth dropped open and he frowned. "I…I mean…" his girlfriend didn't strike him as the type of person who would be so concerned with their self image that they starved themselves to reach perfection. "She's…"

"I know," Angel remarked, the corner of her mouth cocking up in a puzzled smirk. "She went to rehab for a while and she did better. But she's still not over it and sometimes she'll go two or three days without eating. She's got three people keeping track of her but she still sometimes slips the fact that she's not eating past us."

"Well now she's got a fourth," Roger vowed.

"She has ways to get around it," Angel cautioned. "She hides food, she pretends she's not hungry, she sometimes purges but not often…"

All the while Roger nodded while trying to process that information. "I understand. I think I can help out with this. Who else knows?"

"Her mom, my mom, and Mark," Angel replied. "Maybe one more person to help her boost her self-esteem will be good for her." She giggled and shrugged. "Tell her she's sexy about once a day. I think that'll work and it won't be as creepy as it is coming from the two gay dudes she has as best friends or her mother."

Roger laughed. "Trust me; I think I'll be able to convince her she's the hottest thing since the sun by about…Tuesday."

"I don't even want to know what you're planning," Angel giggled, holding her hands up.

"Trust me, it's better if you don't even ask," Roger replied.

The Latina shook her head and led the rocker back into the garage, scowling at Jared when he suggestively inquired what they'd been doing and threw a shoe at him.

"Is there no way to win with you, Angel?" inquired the other blond in the room, throwing the drag queen's shoe back at her.

"Nope."

* * *

And while Saturday wasn't exactly great, it was sure better than Sunday…

"Hey; you hungry?"

"Starving."

"Awesome. Let's raid the fridge."

Angel giggled, going slightly cross-eyed as she tried to focus on her best friend from where she was staring at her from the floor of her basement, her legs propped on the sofa and her upper half splayed messily on the area rug. Angel had arrived an hour earlier to ask Mimi if she wanted to go to the mall, and instead they ended up in Mimi's basement with several joints, courtesy of a cousin of her's. Neither Latina made a habit of doing marijuana, but once and a while it was fun to let go and have fun. And it was the only time when Mimi's appetite matched a normal person's. With all the drama recently, it was especially good to escape. Reality had just gotten too…real lately.

"Come on, you bum. Come with me," Mimi begged, tugging on Angel's arm, only succeeding in hauling her upper body a few inches off the ground for a second.

"Ooow. You hurt me," Angel whined, rubbing her shoulder. "Now I'm mad at you."

"Sorry," giggled Mimi, swooping down to peck her friend's shoulder. "Better?" Mimi got incredibly silly and playful when she was high as well. Another secret of Mimi's was that she flirted with anything wearing blue jeans when intoxicated. Failing that, the next thing she went for was plaid, which was why both Latinas found her boyfriend's plaid pants hilarious.

"Uhuh," Angel replied, swinging her legs off the sofa and getting up, setting off on what she was considering a scouting mission of epic proportions. "I'm suddenly craving peanut butter. You want peanut butter? Because that sounds really good…"

Mimi simply squeaked as she lost her footing and fell on the stairs. Angel whipped around and grabbed her wrist; saving her friend from falling down the two stairs she'd managed the climb. Angel giggled at Mimi until she glanced down at her arm to see if she had left bruises and gasped at her forearm.

Mimi's long sleeve had ridden up and all up and down her arm was track marks. Some new and some already scarred over. Angel gapped at Mimi, whom tugged her arm out of Angel's hand and fell back, grabbing the banister for support.

Time sped up for Angel and she could feel her high receding like a scampering ant. Mouth quivering, she whispered, "M-Mimi?"

Mimi huddled against the railing, compacting herself to half her height and crossed her arms, mumbling, "Yeah?"

"What…why…?" Angel shook her head, face incredulous. She couldn't believe she'd missed the signs in her friend, as now that she really examined it she noticed so many differences; such as the fact that Mimi couldn't seem to stay still for more than a few seconds, or the wideness of her best friend's eyes. How many things was Mimi currently on? Was this why she'd had such energetic behavior lately? Her fellow Latina had always been a very energetic person, but in recent had been really getting on her nerves when she wanted to get up and go do things right when they'd gotten back from doing something.

"Angel…just don't," Mimi whispered, turning her head away. "You wouldn't understand and…it's none of your business."

"Excuse me?" Angel asked, "¡_disculpe_!? None of my business, Mimi?! What are you on, huh? Heroine? Cocaine? Meth?"

Mimi pushed Angel away as she got closer and closer to her face and shrieked, "Like you're some fucking saint, Angel! We were both just smoking weed down there! And –"

"Oh, yeah! I'm really baaaaad," Angel cried, waving her hands around. Her accent was thickening badly, speaking of her ever-increasing rage. "Here is a news flash for _tú_, chica! YOU CANNOT OVERDOSE ON WEED! IT'S PRETTY MUCH _LO IMPOSIBLE_! You will pass out before you overdose on Marijuana! You, on the other hand…!"

"Just shut up and leave me alone!" Mimi shouted. "I'm not dead yet, am I? I know my limits! I'm not gonna overdose!"

"Do you think anyone _plans_ on overdosin', Mimi?" Angel asked, shaking her head. "No. No, they don't, and so you can't see it comin'! This can only end badly for someone, Mimi!"

With this, she fixed her face into a hardened scowl and ran up the stairs, Mimi following behind her. Instead of going out the front door like Mimi had expected her to, Angel ran up the staircase and into Mimi's room, slamming and locking the door behind her. As Mimi yelled profanity in Spanish through the door, Angel rooted around everywhere she could find until; finally, she found what she was looking for in Mimi's backpack of all places. A needle, a lighter, a piece of rubber tubing, and finally a little baggie full of white powder. She took them all and loaded them into a grocery bag she found, and then dashed out of the room, past Mimi, down the stairs and outside, pitching them all in the trash. It wouldn't keep Mimi from taking it all out and sterilizing it again, but it would hopefully make an impression.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Mimi bellowed, crashing into Angel and smacking her hard.

Angel blinked, gapping at Mimi. Her best friend had just slapped her silly. "The better question, Mimi, is what's wrong with you? Who got you into it?"

"No one," Mimi growled.

"Oh, so you're meanin' to tell me you went from a hit of weed every once in a while to an addiction to smack by yourself?" Angel asked.

"I'm not addicted," Mimi insisted. "I can stop any time I want to. I just don't want to."

"That's the _definition_ of addicted, Mimi," Angel whispered.

"It was Roger, but he doesn't do it all the time," Mimi mumbled, "only when we do it together. I do it by myself sometimes; don't blame him."

"Do you share needles?" Angel asked, a haunted tone coming to her voice.

"Huh?"

"Do. You. Share. Needles," Angel demanded.

"N-no," Mimi replied.

"You're lying."

"No I'm –"

"Mimi, I've known you all our lives I think I _know_ when you're lying," Angel grumbled darkly. "You've been sharing needles. Tell me, _what is wrong with you_?"

"I know Roger, I trust him," Mimi defended. "I have no problem sharing with him."

"Don't you realize, Mimi?" Angel asked, tears in her eyes. She shook her head and buried her face in her hands. "Mimi, just please stop sharing needles. If you're gonna do this, just do that for me please."

Mimi furrowed her brows, then her eyes rose. "Angel…I'm not gonna get HIV. I promise I'm not."

"You don't know that," Angel whispered, before walking down the street and back towards her house, leaving Mimi alone and hurting on the sidewalk.

_

* * *

_

Then, Monday brought a lot of excitement…

Roger found himself being bashed over the head first thing after getting to school on Monday morning. One second, he was talking to Collins, and Collins smiled that dopey smile he got which probably meant a certain Latina was coming up out of Roger's vision. Then the African-American boy frowned and Roger was knocked to the ground by a painful impact to his face.

"_Maldito bastardo! ¿Cómo te atreves a hacer eso a ella!_"

Roger was shocked to see that the person who hit him was none other than bouncy, sweet Angel, and that his own girlfriend stood cowering not too far away, mumbling feeble requests for Angel to stop. More out of instinct than anything, he kicked out and caught Angel in the knees, sending her tumbling to the ground and she growled at him.

Mimi cried out, caught between worrying more about her best friend or boyfriend as the two rumbled on the ground. Angel straddled Roger and slapped him all over his face until Roger rolled them and managed to catch Angel in the chest, knocking the wind out of her. His intent was to incapacitate rather than harm but some part of him wanted payback for the ambush. Angel tangled her hands in his hair and pulled. In retaliation, he kneed her, hard, where he knew it would hurt. She cried out, hands flying to between her thighs. She then kicked her own leg out and caught Roger in the side of the head, making him tumble sideways.

Collins stepped forward and took Angel under the armpits, dragging her away from Roger's prone body and wincing when her flailing accidentally resulting in her hand smacking him in the head. Jared took Roger, dragging them both as far away as they could get from each other.

"Guys, what's going on?!" Tony demanded, shock written all over his face. He'd come upon the scene just as Angel had all but tackled Roger to the ground.

"I don't know!" Roger responded, spitting a bit of blood out of his mouth cursing, "Bitch…" under his breath. "She just came up to me and hit me!"

"Like you don't know, _usted cerdo_," Angel hissed, spitting at Roger's feet. "Ask Mimi if you're really such a dumbass that you can't figure it out."

Roger spun on Mimi, furrowing his brows and inquiring, "Meems?"

"She…found out about the smack," Mimi whispered.

Roger gasped and spun back towards the other Latina, whom was still staring at him with homicidal intensity. "Angel, you've gotta understand…"

"I don't think this is something I can just understand, Roger," Angel growled. "You got my best friend into something that, sooner or later whether she realizes it or not, will kill her if she doesn't stop it. I can't forgive you for that. Just…" she shook her head and tugged her arms out of Collins' hands; or tried, but he tightened his fingers on her, afraid she would go for Roger again. "Let_ go_ of me, Collins! I need to get this fucker out of my sight!"

_

* * *

_

But I did apologize…eventually…

"Hi," Roger greeted, coming upon Angel sitting on her front porch Wednesday night. The Latina turned her head lazily and eyed him boredly, before turning her eyes back down and bringing her knees up to her chest.

"Hi," she mumbled back finally.

"Look, Angel, I'm sorry," sighed Roger. "I didn't think it would go this far. I was always able to go a long time without a hit but, Mimi is…she can't go a week without one. I didn't know how bad it would get."

"So what you're saying is you're not addicted, but you got my friend addicted instead, right?" Angel growled into her skirt.

"That's not what I…" Roger started, and then shook his head. "Yeah; I guess I did. I really am sorry, Angel. You gotta believe me. And…" he sighed, staring at the bruises on her shoulders and face. "I'm really sorry about the fight."

"I started it," Angel mumbled. "And Roger; I really didn't come to school with the idea of hitting you in my head. I was gonna cuss you the fuck out, don't kid yourself." She giggled a bit and Roger put on an amused smile for her sake. "But when I saw you, I just got so mad. I don't really know what happened. I…I'm not really good with anger management, and it's a good thing that I don't get mad very often, but when I do…"

"Hurricane Angel," Roger remarked. "All in your path are caught in the raging destruction."

Angel nodded her agreement. "So…you could stop pretty easy, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Roger replied. "It started off as a way to pull all-nighters studying. Now I do it sometimes just for…you know."

"So the first time Mimi did it," mumbled Angel. "Was that for 'studying' or just one of those for just for fun times?"

"More for shits and giggles than anything," Roger sighed and Angel raised a brow, a glare lurking under. "But Mimi went along with it. I wouldn't have made her do it if she didn't want to."

Angel sighed. "Mimi has an addictive personality. Haven't you ever noticed how she'll get really into something until something new comes along? That's how she operates."

"Thought she just obsessed over a lot of things," Roger mumbled.

"True, true," Angel replied. "But once she likes something she can't let it go; that's why it's gonna be so difficult to get her outta the heroine. So you've gotta help me with that if we're gonna do it."

"We strike at midnight," Roger vowed.

"_What_?" Angel giggled.

"I've always wanted to say that. Heard it on TV once, dunno," Roger replied. "It sounded like something that would be cool to say."

"Angel! Come on, _Mijo_, dinner!"

Angel looked to Roger and smiled, shouting something back to her mother in Spanish which Roger took to mean something like, 'Be there in a minute'.

"I'll see you around, Ang," Roger sighed, reaching out and hugging her. It was a lot less awkward to embrace Angel like he would a girl when Angel was in drag, as he didn't feel the need to pound her back like he would when hugging someone like Collins or Mark.

"You too, Roger," Angel replied. "And I'm sorry, too. As long as you'll be helping me, you know, with Mimi."

"I will," Roger promised. "Midnight, remember?"

"Midnight," Angel giggled, patting Roger's back then getting up. "Bye, Sugar."

"Bye."

Hopefully, everything would work out.

_

* * *

_

And, the crappiest day was, of course, Friday.

"Hey…could I talk to you for a second?"

It was lunch on Friday and Mark had just approached Angel, arriving at lunch nearly ten minutes late. Angel looked up from her poor excuse for a taco (soft tortilla, greasy, nasty mystery meat, and a shitload of cheese provided by the school) and smiled at the strawberry blond. "Sure, Marky. Whatcha need?"

"Could you…come with me?" Mark mumbled, gesturing towards the courtyard. Angel nodded and stood, just throwing away her horrible lunch and grinning when Collins inquired if he could have her cookie.

"Yup, you can have the cookie," she replied perkily. "But I'm pretty sure I'll be able to tempt you with some Mexican candy later so…leave room for that."

Collins laughed in return and pecked her lips, replying, "Suuuure, Ang."

"And I expect chocolate in return," she asserted, making Collins snigger so hard he nearly choked on his water. **(Yay for inside jokes! Shout out to Becca!) **

"Angel…" Mark mumbled, biting his lip. Angel nodded and hopped out into the courtyard with him. It was still mid-spring and cold outside. Today wasn't the nicest day, either, making for a deserted courtyard. Angel led them over to a wooden bench and crossed her legs, patting the seat next to her.

"Whatcha ya need my help with, Marky?" asked Angel, smiling an inviting smile at Mark. "You look worried. What's up?"

Mark sighed, and began, "I really don't know how to start this subject…"

"So be blunt," Angel suggested, shrugging.

"Okay, so…Tony…" Mark began. "Tony…uh…we were talking and he said that he…wants to…"

"Oh!" Angel cried, and Mark sighed with relief at the realization that he wouldn't have to actually speak the taboo words. "Sweetie, that's no big deal. There are a few books that you might wanna read on it, just so you know what you're doing. And use protection, because that's always good, and don't tell Maureen; she'll go psycho bitch on you…"

"But, Angel!" Mark cried, biting his lip. "I don't want to. I was going to ask if you had any suggestions on how to tell him no…"

Angel blinked for a few seconds before she smiled in understanding and patted his knee. "I get the idea. I was like that, too. My advice is to just tell him you're not ready. Saying no to him is gonna make you feel guilty, but if you don't want it just yet, it's the best route. And he'll understand. I know Tony."

Mark nodded and cocked his mouth up in a tiny smirk, patting Angel's shoulder. "Thanks, Ang…I guess I was kind of freaking out today."

"And, what do we have here."

Mark stiffened at the voice, recognizing it as that of Raymond Culpepper. Angel simply rolled her eyes and fixed the two boys (His partner-in-crime, Laurence, was with him) with an exasperated glare. She cocked her mouth at Mark, remarking, "_Oh Dios, aquí vienen los payasos."*_

Raymond laughed mockingly and informed, "Sorry, Angelo, but we're in _America_ and in _America_ we speak_ English_."

"Was I talking to you, _puta_?" inquired Angel, raising a brow. "No, didn't think I was. Run along."

"You know, it's people like you and Cohen here who are ruining this country and what it used to stand for," Laurence informed with a smirk.

"How's that?" Angel inquired. "Land of the free? We're free to be who we want. Home of the brave? I can't speak for Mark, but I know I've got more bravery in this pinky finger than you've got in your whole body." She held up one pinky in display.

"No," Raymond replied. "American culture needs to be preserved. We've got all these…blacks and Mexicans and Jews…"

"And you racist white people who think all Latinos are Mexican, right?" Angel asked innocently. "I've got no Mexican blood in me, Chico. This is all Puerto Rican, Guatemalan, and French."

"Angel…" Mark mumbled.

"Because if you ask me," Angle continued, raising her voice to be heard over Mark's anxious squeak. "You people should be the first ones to go, if we really are cleansing America. Because you're as much a nuisance to the general population as us _Mexicans_," she made air-quotes and rolled her eyes. She then squeaked as, one minute, she was standing, hands on her hips, and the next she was in between a cold brick wall and a very angry-looking Laurence McIntyre.

"Say that again, you little shit?!" he requested, gripping her waist hard enough to leave bruises.

"All you racist jackasses need to go get lost long before people like me or Mark," Angel said, strongly though terribly frightened by the other boy. She didn't let her fear show; that would give him satisfaction.

He slapped her and she gasped as her head spun. He then got right up in her ear, hissing, "Right; like I should be compared to you sick freaks. What you people do…" he shook his head. "It goes against all morals the Lord intended."

Angel whimpered a bit as he got even closer to her and dug his fingers even harder into her flesh.

"How does it feel, huh?" he hissed. "When he's inside you? You feel dirty, right? When you're being his little bitch, does it make you feel like the piece of shit you are? You and that nigger –"

Fury like she'd never felt before raged through Angel, and adrenalin flooded her system. She saw red and spit right in Laurence's eye, and then punched him, sending him flying to the ground. She then stood right over him and catching both Raymond and Laurence in her glare, demanded, "What is wrong with you?! Both of you! Don't you remember what happened just two months ago?! How much death, and destruction…and just plain _horror _there was?! Why would you even _think_ about doing something like this with something so tragic in the so recent past? Honestly, it makes me sick just to look at you people! You're a disgrace to mankind, that's what you are!"

Laurence looked about to say something, but Raymond frantically shook his head, definitely not wanting to try the Latina, and hopped up, nearly sprinting out the door. Laurence stood; wiped Angel's spit from his eye, and spat at her feet, giving her a nasty look before leaving.

"Angel, that was – you – God, you scared _me_!" Mark cried, laughing a bit. He'd heard of Angel's infamous temper but had never had a first-hand encounter with it.

Angel smiled a bit and giggled. "Sorry Marky; but fuck, they made me mad!"

"Well, for the record, I agree with your point," Mark assured. "There's been too much sadness and destruction. They need to aid in the relief of it; not add to the problem."

"Yeah," Angel agreed faintly, and led the way out of the courtyard, just in time for lunch to end and for the two to rush off to their sixth hours.

* * *

_So, yeah, Journal. That was my week in review. Lots of stuff that wasn't pleasant. Maybe next week will be better. Something Laurence said stuck with me, though…and for the life of me I can't figure out why, because I never listen to anything that fuck says, but I still can't help but wonder…__Should_ _I feel…dirty when Collins and I make love? Should I feel like some sexual deviant or something? I mean, I know we're not breaking a sodomy law or anything (At least not in this state) but…I just can't help but think I should feel ashamed for wanting those sorts of things done to me…_

_Okay, I'm being ridiculous. And I shouldn't think about these things. I'm pretty sure it's not good for my sanity – haha – and I'm probably going to make myself sick thinking about these things all at once._

_Maybe I just have to have hope at times like these that someday things will get better; bad things will stop happening to my friends and I and the outright cruelty will end. Then again, I might as well be waiting for pigs to start flying, for all the chance there is of __that__ happening…_

_-Angel_

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End Chapter

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A/N: I really hope you liked this chapter! It was an experiment of sorts. :D It was kind of fun to write and I enjoyed depicting raging-mad!Angel. It was fun.

And Next Chapter – It is prom-night at Scarsdale High! *yaaaaay*

Translations:  
* _Oh, Dios, aquí vienen los payasos _translates into: "Oh, God, here come the clowns."  
** _Puta_ means "bitch".

My much loved reviewers, I NEED YOU NOW! *whimpers* You will be loved for all eternity if you leave a nice review! Flames are also welcomed with opened arms and a cozy little fire pit to live in, where I will use them to start my flame-dancing career! *Goes to dance in those flames* Thanks, of course, to **Marky's Scarfy** –AKA the bestest beta evers!

-Lynn


	18. Chapter 17: Prom Night

A/N: I'MA GOIN' TO ORLANDO, BITCHES! Lol. Our High School band trip next year is being planned for Orlando, Florida. And we're planning to go to Universal Studios, Sea World, and Adventure Cove I think. I'm not sure of the name. But, yeah; ORLDANDO, BE READY FOR YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE; MELVINE HIGH SCHOOL BAND, FEATURING KATLYNN AND KAITLYN! My friend in band is named Kaitlyn and we are both fanfic writers. :D

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Sorry I didn't update on Tuesday; I was at my grandparent's and they don't have internet. I was gonna put music to this chapter, but I got lazy and it didn't go with the chapter as well as I planed, so I'd recommend listening to The Great Escape by Boys Like Girls after you read this chapter! And that's also your song of the week, so haha. :D

Disclaimer: ME NO OWNIE! Jonathon Larson (Amazing, wonderful, late Jonathon Larson) brought this all to life and inspired me, and millions of others (Most of which were faghags/draghags and teenaged girls but there are a lot of those in the world) and just gave everyone who watched it the ability to forget regret, and the power to live like there's No Day But Today!

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Chapter 17: Prom Night

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"Heads up!"

Collins laughed as Angel thumped against him and, using his shoulders for leverage, hopped onto his back. Her legs wound around his middle and his hands cupped her thighs in a well-practiced move and he glanced back at her. "So…why have you decided you're going to ride me?"

"First, that sounded soooo wrong," Angel informed, giggling. Collins rolled his eyes; his 'girlfriend' had been hanging out with Maureen way too much lately and now had a mind dirty enough to rival that of the drama queen's. "Second, my feet; I had to wear new shoes to the choir concert last night and I hurt. Third, you're comfy."

The high school chorus had had their spring concert the day before. It was a feat for the group, as it had nearly been canceled in light of recent events. All other events had been cancelled, except the band concert and prom (Which was only a week from that Saturday, Angel was now constantly aware of) because of their proximity to that horrible day in March.

"What're we doing for prom?" Angel inquired suddenly half-way through their walk home. It was a nice day, so both had decided not to ride the bus and instead walk home and get the exercise they'd been denied over the long winter months. "I mean, I'm sure the teachers aren't gonna say anything but what about students?"

"Since when have we _cared_, Ang?" Collins asked, raising a brow. He'd dropped her only a few minutes after her ambush, knowing her feet couldn't possibly hurt so bad that she couldn't make the short six-block walk home. The girl walked around in four-inch heels half the time; really. "Are we going to my prom or your's? There's really no point in going to both."

"I think it's customary for the younger to go to the older's dance," Angel informed. "And the senior prom is _always_ more fun."

"Right," Collins agreed. They walked in relative silence the rest of the way, hands swinging back and forth lazily, just enjoying each other's company and the feel of sunshine against their skin. Angel commented about the winter making her pale and how, with enough hours in the sun, she'd look like a _real_ Latina again by the end of the month. Collins, being the cornier of the two, told her she'd always be his warm and spicy Latina. **(Ama, you ROCK!)**

Mimi, Maureen, and Joanne (Who looked a lot like she was just being dragged along for the ride and wasn't exactly pleased about it.) were waiting on Angel's front porch when they arrived, all with glasses of pink lemonade (Provided by Marcella, obviously) and squinting against the sun. Upon laying eyes on her fellow Latina, Mimi chugged the rest of her glass, hopped down the porch and pranced over to Angel, hugging her while still bouncing.

"Mimi," Angel giggled, trying to steady her best friend. "What's with you?"

"We're goooing tooo the maaaaaall to buy proooom dresseeeees!" Mimi sang, extending nearly every word to have more syllables than were strictly necessary. "And you're coooming!"

"But, Mimi," Angel said, frowning. "I don't have any money for a dress! Why can't I wear the one I did for homecoming earlier this year?"

"Come on, Angel! This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing! You don't wanna recycle a dress! And you really don't think your mom's been saving up for this, like, your whole life?" Mimi asked. "Well, technically that's the college fund, but seriously! Your mom's got you covered! Now go change; for God's sake, you are _not_ gonna be able to shop in those shoes!"

Shrugging at Collins, Angel ran up the steps of her house and came back downstairs later in a pair of converse – orange, this time. Her purple ones had started to wear at the sole. She'd changed her skirt to better accommodate her outfit (it was now white and flowery) and was loading several things into her wallet, her bright orange mini backpack slung over one shoulder. Angel only really carried a purse as an accessory; she much more preferred to carry something she could sling over her shoulders. She had her mini backpack and a messenger bag for that purpose.

"Wow," she remarked. "I think my mom just handed me half my college fund, Meems."

"Okay, you're buying snacks," Maureen informed, giggling at the sight of Angel's wallet. Behind her, Joanne shook her head and held up a credit card, wordlessly telling Angel she needn't do that. Angel smiled; while the small fortune her mother had just handed her was a huge sum to her, it was mostly tens and probably would only be enough to buy a dress, and not a great one at that. But she'd learned long ago to take what she got and hope for the best.

"You guys are buying dresses too?" Angel inquired, raising a brow. For as long as she'd known Maureen, she'd never seen the drama queen in a dress. And Joanne regularly campaigned against frilly things like skirts and dresses.

"I'm getting a suit," Joanne informed. "Maureen is…uh…"

"I'm wearing something I have already," Maureen supplied. "But I still wanna be there for input. What are we waiting for? Let's go, people!"

"Whose car are we taking?" Angel asked, looking at Maureen and Joanne. Joanne had a red, newer model of Marcella's Taurus and Maureen had taken to driving around her father's BMW. Joanne pointed behind her, and Angel suddenly realized the car parked on the curb wasn't just a random one, but Joanne's. Angel couldn't blame her; she wouldn't trust Maureen behind the wheel either.

The other girls loaded into the car while Angel turned to Collins and hugged him, kissing his cheek and telling him she'd see him sometime the next day.

"Come over later, okay?" Collins asked, making a face. "My mom's getting paranoid; she hasn't seen you in so long she thinks I broke up with you or something. Like that would ever happen." He snorted and Angel hid her uncertainty well from him. In truth, she was sure it had to happen at some point. "But, anyway, she keeps on asking me where you are and when I tell her, she gives me this _look_ so…"

"To satisfy Suzan," Angel giggled. "I'll be over right after we come home from the mall. Or after dinner if we get back too late."

"Would you guys please stop making out?!" bellowed Maureen from the front passenger's seat. She turned to Joanne and inquired, "Why don't you ever hold me like that?"

"I do."

"Not in public."

Joanne sighed and rubbed her eyes. "We've been over this, Maureen. I don't like public displays of affection; they're tacky and make people uncomfortable. It's not because I'm ashamed of you or anything."

"Well, what are you gonna do at prom?" Maureen inquired, a bit of defense coming into her voice. "You still gonna handle me with a ten-foot pole?"

"That's _different_, Maureen," Joanne sighed, "there are certain times when it's okay to be openly affectionate and not get stared at strangely. Dances are one example of that, so of course I'll be dancing with you and kissing you then. Take it or leave it."

"Well, I –"

"Just _please,_ Honeybear, my head's killing me today," Joanne moaned, rubbing her temples. "I really don't want a fight today. Could you save it for Sunday, maybe?"

Maureen still scowled, but at the mention of her girlfriend's pain she deflated a bit and petted down Joanne's kinky locks, making the dark-skinned girl smile a bit. "You want me to drive, Pookie?"

"NO!" Joanne and Mimi bellowed, while Angel stared at them all in confusion, having just opened the door to the car. Mimi added, for Angel's sake, "Maureen, you behind the wheel just spells disaster!"

From this Angel pulled the information that she wasn't being told she couldn't get in the car, and got in and buckled her seatbelt. At the click, Joanne started the engine, put the car in drive, and pulled away from the curb.

* * *

The next Friday, Collins arrived at Angel's house and felt a certain sense of déjà vu. In one hand he held a single pink carnation (for her hair) having been able to cajole the color of Angel's dress from her, and in the other he held a little, clear plastic container containing a corsage (for her wrist) of the same color. He felt nervous and giddy at the same time and was very aware of every imperfection, from his too-long hair to the missing tip on his shoe lace. But he marched confidently up Angel's porch and rang the doorbell.

Abuela smiled at him upon opening the door and patted his shoulders, commenting, "_¡Mírate!_ How hansom! Oh, Angel won't know what hit her!"

Collins laughed nervously and followed the old woman into the living room, where he was offered a drink by Marcella, which he refused, saying he wasn't thirsty. Marcella was once again by the pictures on the mantle, and looked like she'd been crying recently. Collins wondered if his lover's mother was going to make a habit of this, but by the all-suffering looked Abuela shot him, he figured it was probably nothing new.

"Well, you look very nice tonight, Tom," Marcella observed, "but…"

She stared at him for a minute, removed his beanie from his head, and petted his hair down. Satisfied, she folded the hat and placed it in his pocket. "There. That's better. My apologies, but you look like a bum when you wear that thing."

Collins laughed and replied, "Thanks, Miss Schunard."

"Oh honestly, Collins," chuckled Marcella. "I think it's about time you start calling me Marcella, at least."

A throat was cleared from the hallway and they all turned to see Angel leaning around the corner, keeping his lower half hidden as he was obviously very scantly dressed; probably only in a towel or pair of panties. He blushed on the sight of Collins and squeaked, "Uh…Abuela? Where did you put my nylons?"

"Oh!" Abuela cried, chuckling at herself, "sorry, _Miel_. I will go get those for you."

Angel laughed bashfully and disappeared quickly, walking back up the stairs. Abuela left as well and Collins thought she would follow Angel up the stairs but she walked beyond them and entered through a door built into the side of the staircase. It must have lead to the laundry room; Collins guessed he'd never noticed it before.

The only movement for the next ten minutes was Abuela coming back in from the laundry room and walking up the stairs to the second door on the right and knocking, then coming down and sitting next to her daughter on the sofa, across from Collins on the wingback chair. They stared at each other and blinked until their silence was almost comical.

"You all look like a bunch of dopes."

They all glanced up at the giggle and found Angel standing in the archway to the living room, giggling into her hand. Her dress was a strapped, knee-length, pink number. Collins, as he had after first finding out the color, again wondered at the color, as Angel hadn't made her aversion to the color secret, but it was a light, soft shade (Carnation) and it was more the dark, striking shades that got to her. A white sash hung around her waist and half-way down the skirt, and in her hands she held a pink clutch.

Collins sprang up upon seeing her and quickly joined her side, vaguely noticing that Marcella and Abuela were sinking slowly into the kitchen area. He kissed Angel's cheek and stepped back to again take in her dress, whistling low, and murmured, "Babygirl, you look _so_ se–"

Angel placed two fingers over his lips and made a quiet hushing sound, giggling a bit and whispering, "Mama and Abuela can still hear you. They're listening in there; trust me."

"Well you do," Collins pointed out from around the Latina's digits.

"And I thank you for thinking that," Angel replied. "Just don't say it loudly with them listening into the next room."

Collins leaned in and murmured in her ear, "Miss Angel, you will undoubtedly be the sexiest girl at that prom."

At her blush, he grinned and held up the carnation, spinning it between his index finger and thumb like he had their first date. Angel giggled at the familiar move, nodding and allowing him to place the flower in her wig. He then carefully removed the corsage and fixed it on her left wrist (The right one was still occupied by the charm bracelet she never took off) and smiled when Angel gasped a little at it and murmured, "Aw! It's beautiful! You didn't have to."

"Trust me, I did," Collins chuckled, straightening it. "One, Mimi would have killed me. Two, Maureen would have killed me. Three, its tradition and I wasn't gonna be the dope who broke it by not getting my girl her bling."

Angel grinned and kissed his cheek. Then she winked and called, "Okay! Mush-fest's over! You can come back in now!"

Marcella and Abuela tried to slink nonchalantly back into the room but failed badly when Abuela pulled out her camera and nearly hopped up and down while asking for pictures.

"Could you make copies of those, Mrs. Schunard?" Collins inquired of the matriarch, trying to move his lips as little as possible while she snapped the photos. "My mom and dad couldn't be here tonight; work, you know. And it's getting harder and harder for Grams to get out."

"Don't I know what that is like, eh?" chuckled Abuela at Collins. "Yes, of course I will be making copes for your parents. And the same goes for me as my daughter; call me Marcia."

"Okay," Collins agreed feebly, not really knowing how to respond to this.

"Okay, you two had better go or you'll be late," Marcella sighed, stepping forward and bringing the photo shoot to an abrupt end. Both teens shot her grateful looks. "Angel, do you have your beeper up loud enough to hear it if it goes off?"

"Yeah," Angel replied, but took it out just to make sure. She tried to up the volume, and finding she couldn't confirmed, "Yup; that's its highest. But it went off just before I came down here so hopefully it won't go off while we're there."

"What time is it set to go off at?" Collins inquired, realizing she was worried she wouldn't hear it go off over the loud music. "I'll remind you."

"Ten-thirty," Angel replied. "Hopefully things will have wound down by then, but thanks anyway."

Marcella, satisfied, nodded and hugged them both, kissed their cheeks, and passed them off to Abuela who gave them much the same treatment. "Now go, you two. You have to pick up Mimi and Roger and I don't want to deal with the drama that will come from you being late. Have fun and take your AZT, Angel. Wait; what's the plan for after the dance? I didn't quite catch it all when you were explaining it to me."

"Mimi's gonna stay the night and Joanne's gonna be by around seven in the morning to pick us up," Angel listed, "we're gonna go to the beach. We'll be back late, but don't worry."

Marcella nodded along with the flow of information and smiled. "Okay. I trust you to handle yourselves." She then sighed, gathered herself, and wished, "Have a good time, you two. Really; my prom…well, what do you kids say these days? It sucked. I hope yours will be better."

Angel giggled and hugged her mother one more time, before following Collins out the door.

The second they reached his car, Angel turned to Collins and crashed their mouths together, kissing him heatedly for a few minutes before pulling away, panting heavily.

"What was _that_?" Collins laughed, swiping Angel's lip gloss of his own lips with the back of his hand. "Not that I'm complaining but _damn_, girl!"

Angel giggled and tried to right herself, breathing, "Sorry! I've just wanted to do that since I saw you in the living room. I'm a whore for a well-dressed man; you know that."

They both laughed and settled down for the short drive to Mimi's. They were greeted at the door by Lynda Marquez, whom smiled at them and awkwardly hugged Angel before leading them into the living room, where they found the best ass below Fourteenth Street sticking up in the air from under the coffee table.

"Uh…Mimi?" Angel giggled.

"Oh!" Mimi sprung up, managing to hit her head on the bottom of the table. She cried out and Angel and Collins winced in sympathy while Roger reached out to his girlfriend from half-way across the room as though sending her comfort through his fingers. "Sorry! Lucy got out!"

Angel glanced towards the far wall of the living room and found the Guinea Pig's cage empty. She frowned, trailed her eyes around the room, and laughed. "Roger! Look at your shoe!"

The rocker glanced down and let out a triumphant, "Ah–ha!" before bending down and picking up the brown and white rodent. "Found her!"

Mimi hopped over to him and frowned at the Guinea Pig being cradled in her boyfriend's arms. "Bad Guinea Pig; what were you doing on Roger's foot?!"

The Guinea Pig blinked its beady eyes and made a tiny sound akin to a purr while curling into Roger's chest. Roger laughed and walked back over to its cage, placing it in it and closing the top.

Mimi wore a shiny, emerald, strapless dress which trailed to about her knees. A blue ribbon went around her waist, tied off with a bow on one hip. Roger wore a traditional suit, his hair gelled back – obviously his mother's doing – and his nails were free of black lacquer for once.

"You both look soooo good!" Angel cried, hugging Mimi. Subtly, she glanced at her arms and was satisfied at the sight of no new needle marks. Angel and Roger had ambushed Mimi one day durring Spring Break and removed all her drug paraphernalia from her room. They then took turns sitting with her while she detoxed; talking with her to distract her from pain, cradling her while she shivered, and holding her hair while she vomited everything she'd gotten down right back up. They told her mother she had the flu.

Mimi scowled, noticing what Angel was doing and mumbling, "Yes, mother, I've been a good girl."

Angel gave Mimi the 'look', which Mimi returned with full force. What they couldn't see was their boyfriends wincing; the Pissed-Off-Latina-Glare-of-Death had never boded well when directed at one of them. They stared each other down for a few minutes, until both broke eye contact simultaneously and threw their arms around each other once again, laughing.

"Let me see your corsage!" Angel demanded, seizing Mimi's wrist and beaming down at it. Mimi proudly displayed the corsage made with green roses and a blue ribbon, and Angel showed off her own pink carnations. Wordlessly, they agreed their boyfriends were the best out there and turned to them, grinning dopily.

"Uh…have a good time, everyone," Lynda wished, smiling falteringly. Lynda and Mimi had grown farther and farther apart as Mimi aged, though they'd never been extremely close. Mimi's father just hadn't been able to deal with his daughter after Marcella and Angel had taken off for the states, so had boarded a plane with Mimi and showed up on Lynda's doorstep with a wide-eyed nine-year-old. Lynda hadn't wanted to take Mimi; that was why she'd moved to New York, after all, but she'd had to. She and her husband had never officially divorced and she was afraid she could get sued for alimony if she didn't help when asked. After that the relationship had disintegrated farther rather than strengthened. Therefore Lynda took to distancing herself from her daughter's activities as much as possible.

"Yeah…thanks, Mom," Mimi mumbled, while everyone else nodded and quietly mumbled, "Thanks, Mrs. Marquez" out of courtesy. "See you, uh…Tuesday." Mimi would be staying at Angel's house that night so Joanne wouldn't have to go so many places. Collins was staying at Roger's, Tony at Mark's, and Maureen at Joanne's.

The second they were out the door, Mimi let out a crow of, "Let get this night _started_, people!" and Angel let out a whoop in response, hopping down the walkway and to the car, nearly vibrating with excitement.

"This is gonna be a night we'll remember the rest of our lives," Angel stated certainly. "A night we drag out Mark's old camera footage to show our kids."

"Oh yeah, because of course Mark's gonna want us to have our hands all over his footage," Mimi droned while Collins started up the car.

"Hm…I forgot about the mother-hen protectiveness…there are ways to get past that. Their names are Tony and Maureen."

Mimi let out a shrieking laugh that echoed all the way down the rapidly darkening street from the open window as they made their way to the prom location.

* * *

They didn't recognize Joanne at first, but they guessed that had to be the person holding Maureen's hand, waiting by the large flower planter. She was wearing a strapped, pink dress. It wasn't satiny and sequined like all the other dresses in the vicinity, but one that seemed to breath and flow from where it ended just above her kneecaps. Mimi and Angel stared at each other, then Joanne for a few minutes before rushing over to Joanne and fawning over her newfound femininity.

"That's a great pattern! I love it!"

"Oh, Chica, you look soooo good!"

"Agreed! You should wear these sorts of things more often! I mean this is a total transformation!"

Blushing under the critical eye of the two Latinas, Joanne attempted to stutter out a reply, but failed. Maureen just stood by, trying to look pleased at all the attention her girlfriend was receiving but it was obvious she wanted someone to pay attention to her in her purple, knee-short halter dress. To prevent (or at least put off) an argument, Collins smiled at his best friend and told her, "Nice outfit, Mo."

"Thank you!" she chirped, finally getting some of the attention. "But what does it matter to you?"

"What? Gay brotha can't appreciate a woman's form?" Collins inquired.

"That's the definition of gay, sweetie," Angel informed. Collins looked about to argue, but Angel smirked and patted down the front of her dress. "And I don't count."

"No matter how much she looks like a woman," Mimi added.

"She still has a d –"

"Roger, complete that sentence and die," Angel threatened.

Roger's speech turned into a sudden coughing fit which was ended when Tony patted him harshly on the back, arriving just then with Mark trailing behind. "You okay there, Rog? Or do you need the Heimlich?"

"I'm good," Roger assured, now really coughing because of the slaps. "Let's go in, shall we?"

Traditionally something like prom would be held at a hotel or dance hall. Scarsdale had the problem of no hotel or dance hall being within close proximity, so they had prom in a room usually used for meetings at town hall. It was basically a large room with many tables and a dance floor in the center. The theme was "Rainbow of Memories" and everywhere were hues of color, mostly purples, pinks, blues, greens, and reds. To emphasize the theme to an almost comical extent, a projector on one far wall flicked slides upon the opposing wall. Most were pictures of seniors, and most of the seniors shown were cheerleaders and football players, with special attention to the runners for prom king and queen.

"Uh…I'm gonna go find a table," Tony announced, and Mark followed behind him.

"They're not gonna dance even one time the whole night, are they?" Mimi asked, frowning.

"Nope," Roger replied, and it was obvious if it was up to him he wouldn't be dancing either. Needless to say, it wasn't up to him. "Uh…we're not dancing right away, are we Mimi?"

"No," Mimi sighed. "I guess not. But I want you on that dance floor the first slow dance, Davis…in the meantime, get me some punch?"

Roger held up a thumb, more than willing to do it if it would keep him off the dance floor, and weaved through the crowd to the bowl. From across the room, Tony let out a crow of triumph and nearly tackled a table, claiming it as theirs by sitting at the head of it and glaring at everyone who passed. Mark raised a brow and eased into a chair, eyeing Tony like one would a particularly amusing (if misbehaving) animal.

"So…dance?" Maureen inquired of Joanne, whom was currently attempting to blend in with the drapes over one large picture window.

"Uh…not right now," Joanne assessed, staring at the throng, "maybe when it calms down a bit."

Joanne had a thing for personal space that Maureen did well to respect. "Cool…cool…I can wait. Hungry?"

"Sure."

"Off to find something yummy am I," Maureen informed, tromping off to the buffet table and staring at the choices. There was a lot of finger food – ham wraps and veggie plates – but on the farthest part of the table there were hotplates keeping several pasta dishes warm, and a small ham sat on the table. She loaded two plates with light foods (she expected to be dancing a lot that night – even if all of it wasn't with Joanne) and carried them back to the table, to see the rest of their friends had all found the table and sat there.

"Carrot, Mimi?" Roger offered, stealing a carrot stick off Maureen's plate and waving the orange veggie around in front of his girlfriend. "C'mon."

"Eh…if I eat anything in this I'll burst out of it," Mimi informed, glancing down at her dress.

"No you won't," Roger said. "You're the sexiest girl here and you're far from bursting out of that thing. No offense to MoJo and Angel."

Maureen and Joanne smiled and waved it off, undoubtedly having it on good authority that they were both sexier than the other. And Angel replied with, "I agree."

Mimi rolled her eyes and mumbled, "Yeah…Angel's the sexiest tranny around here…" while munching on the carrot, just to appease Roger.

The first slow song came way before Roger wanted it to, and it found many couples getting off the dance floor. They were show couples; people who got together for the sake of image, not really caring where their relationship went. Couples like that didn't really want to dance intimately like that until it was absoloutly necessary. Angel found herself realizing more and more things about the people she used to envy; people who had someone who cared about them enough to sit next to them and hold their hand at lunch. She was beginning to realize that the hand-holding at the lunch table was the extent of most of those relationships. And those deeper qualities in a relationship were things some of the shallow people who got together for image wouldn't reach any time soon. She considered herself lucky and maybe a little smug; she'd gotten all she wanted and more at the age of seventeen. All she would ever want, she was becoming more and more convinced of.

Roger suffered through three slow songs in a row before he shot the DJ the dirtiest of all death glares. The DJ immediately grabbed the closest thing he found – a B52's album – and set it up on the turntable. Everyone stared at each other when 'Love Shack' began playing, but shrugged and went along with it.

The night continued and was brought to a climax by the announcing of the king and queen (A cheerleader named Allison Grey and the tight end on the football team, Benjamin Coffin) and everyone gathered on the dance floor for one last slow dance.

"The king and queen were actually tolerable this year," Angel remarked as Collins led her onto the dance floor and took her in his arms. "Benny's not bad and Allison was my lab partner last year."

"Mmm hmm," Collins replied, having known Benny since moving from New Mexico the summer before starting grade school. "He's a cool dude. Glad he got it…instead of, you know…"

"Laurence McIntyre," Angel spat the name like blasphemy and her hand tightened convulsively. "God, I hate that _hijo de puta_."

"And I'm suddenly very glad I do not speak Spanish," Collins chuckled, wincing at the profanity in the foreign language. He glanced at the clock and saw it was 10:45, and at the same time felt Angel yawn against his neck. "You take your AZT, Ang?"

"Yup…" She mumbled. "By the way, I was talking to my mom last night…"

"And?" prompted Collins.

"She says she will probably be either asleep or in her den when," at this, Angel cleared her throat. "Uh, _Mimi_ and I get back, and she won't worry if we bang around a bit…going up the stairs and getting ready for bed."

"Funny thing about that," Collins chuckled. "I'm not even expected home tonight."

"Great," Angel mumbled. She glanced over Collins' shoulder and displayed a grin for Mimi, who grinned back. They had a plan involving a lot of sneaking. Mimi wanted to be with Roger, and Angel wanted to be with Collins on prom night, so both parties had to plan for this. Mimi would be as quiet as possible sneaking with Roger into his house, and Angel would have to perform similar maneuvers to silently get both herself and her boyfriend in the house without detection. It was all planned, and the tactics agreed upon. She just didn't know about the boys, but Roger seemed smug and Collins was obviously okay with it. Now she just needed to ask one little favor of their favorite future-lawyer…

She kissed Collins' cheek and spun over to Joanne, laughing as Maureen took her hand and pulled her into a three-way dance for a second before Maureen got the picture and pirouetted over to Collins, spinning into him dramatically.

Joanne raised a brow. "Can a help you?"

"I need a favor," Angel informed. "Could you drive Roger and Mimi to Roger's place? Collins and I…wanna go directly home."

Joanne rolled her eyes and nodded just as the song ended and everyone broke apart, turning to clap for the DJ. The principal stepped in and told everyone to have good nights and to behave over the weekend ("Try to stay out of jail," he cracked, though it was obvious he was only half-joking as he eyed Roger, Mimi, Collins, Angel, and Maureen.) before dismissing them with a grand wave of his hand towards the doors.

The ride home was silent, with Collins driving and Angel staring out the window in a kind of pleasant, detached haze. Once they arrived, she was taken by the hand to her room and asked her permission to be led to bed. She gave it with a kiss and sighed in bliss as she was undressed by familiar, caressing hands.

In the past, rough had been mixed with soft but now it was all about a gentle, warm exchange of pleasure. Soft, breathless sighs were traded back and forth as apposed to moans, and they gave as much as they took. Upon reaching his moment of ecstasy, Angel gasped and shuddered, not being able to hold off a small, high-pitched whine as Collins silently released inside of him, proceeding to bring Angel into his arms as the Latino trembled with emotion.

"Ang – you're crying," murmured Collins, frowning and wiping away his tears. "What's wrong, babygirl? You're not hurt, are you?"

Angel shook his head. "No…that was just…perfect." He shook his head again, at a loss for words, not wanting to explain it his behavior. He burrowed his head into Collins' shoulder and shut his eyes, stemming the flow he hadn't realized he was letting out. "Sorry."

There were no doubts in his mind. What they did was still love-making and wasn't disgusting in any way. Laurence had been wrong, and Angel was surprised he hadn't realized that before. When they connected like that…it was beautiful.

The phone rang.

Collins frowned and inquired if Angel wanted him to answer the phone. He shook his head and giggled, "it's Mimi, I'll bet. She just doesn't get the concept of 'it's personal'."

The phone didn't stop, however, and the answering machine finally picked up. _'Hi, you've reached the Schunard residence. We're not in right now so leave a message. If it's an emergency, you can reach Marcella by dialing (234)-555-7009 and asking for Miss Schunard. Thanks and have a nice day.'_

_BEEEP_

"_Angel? Uh…call me back when you get this…I…oh, I know you're up. Please pick up_?"

Angel frowned and got up, quickly pulling on his discarded panties, making his way to his desk, and picking up the phone. "Marky? What's…?" he then gasped, and fell into the desk chair. "Are you…? Okay, okay…bye."

He hung up and turned towards Collins, mouth wide open. He attempted to gather himself several times while tears cascaded down his face. Finally, Collins walked over and wrapped a sheet around him, begging him to inform him of the news. Angel turned his eyes up and simply sobbed,

"Jared's dead."

**

* * *

End Chapter; TBC

* * *

**

A/N: Dundundun. You didn't think it was just gonna be a happy ending did you? DO ANY OF YOU EVEN KNOW ME?! Apparently not! Humph!

Okay, don't kill me! You knew I had to do these things! I need drama! I live for it! Why do you think I watch RENT over and over again only to cry at Angel's death!? Yeah! Flames are, as always, welcome! That fire pit is, thankfully, mostly empty!! But maybe a few friends for the few flames I do have would make the flames there happy! *Goes to dance in flames*

THANKS SO VERY MUCH TO **MARKY'S SCARFY**! SHE'S A DOLL FOR EVEN PUTTING UP WITH ME! LET ALONE EVEN READING THIS! *Mucho huggles* And remember to check out my RP site, **wetpaint(dot)bohemialives(dot)com**! The role of Collins has been claimed (Sorry if you wanted him but you should have moved faster!) but Mimi, Roger, Maureen, Joanne, and Benny are all still up for grabs. We're also trying to decide if we should have an OC for Mark. Our OC is probably going to be Tony, my and Katie's usual OC for Mark. So if you're interesting in being a member of our RP site, please go there, read the rules, and join. :D

-Lynn


	19. Chapter 18: Life Goes On

A/N: So…You all probably want to kill me right now, don't you? I promise I'll be nice to the rest of 'em (Chill, Katie) and Jared will…be remembered well. Only the epilogue after this! *Cries* It's almost over! God, I can't believe it! I'm gonna miss this so much! I love this story! *Huggles this story* Yeah, I just hugged story. I can do that. I'm awesome like that.

Has anyone seen the episode of LAO: SVU that Wilson was on? Did you think what they did with the character of Evan SUCKED?! I mean, couldn't they have kept him a victim?! But atleast he was honorable in a way…Katie, you didn't tell me that would happen… *Glare* Le sigh…didn't he also play a criminal in that episode of Without a Trace? I saw that episode once but that was before I knew who he was… Can't remember it, really…

Song of the Week: If You Were Gay – Nicky and Rod from Avenue Q. My friend Haley and I were singing that in Current Events in the middle of a discussion about gay rights and it was hilarious because our teacher was staring at us soooo weirdly.

Disclaimer: Okay, really? You haven't figured it out yet? Okay, *sigh* here we go again…I do not own RENT (For the twenty-sixth time) and nor would I want to disgrace Jonathon Larson (May the demigod rest in peace) by claiming it is mine. All the characters (Yes…even Roger…at some point.) will be returned to the toy box when I'm done playing. And Anthony Rapp owns Just Some Guy. I played with the lyrics a bit to make it fit, but it's definitely still his. NOW ONTO THE STORY!

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Chapter 18: Life Goes On

* * *

**

"_Jared's dead._"

The words echoed in Angel's head in both Mark's exhausted, soft, and almost shocked tone as well his own sobbing tenor. How could this be? Had he been sick? A car accident? Or something even worse? Even as he gasped for breath, trying to hold back tears, he couldn't bring himself to actually level with the information. There was just no way he wouldn't see the familiar blond mop of hair next Saturday in Roger's garage. No way was Jared actually _gone_.

But reality found its way into his system and sunk into his mind, bringing him to the conclusion that it was true. That the information he'd just received was real. No one would be cruel enough to play a joke like that. The only mystery was how it had come to happen.

The phone had woken Marcella and the sobbing brought her to Angel's room. The following scene had been filled with a lot of yelling in Spanish as Marcella misunderstood the situation (her son had been naked and sobbing, after all) and Angel attempted to correct her and inform her of the real situation, with Collins apologizing loudly for the misunderstanding and pulling his pants on in the process.

"Mama!" Angel finally shouted. "Just listen to me, _por favor! _I'll explain it all – I… _Uno momento! Por favor, Madre!"_

Marcella stopped yelling momentarily and jerked her head. "Start talkin', Angelo." Marcella had the same problem as Angel when excited too heavily by an emotion; her speech became faster and the line between English and Spanish began her blur as her r's started rolling and her ing-endings lost the g's on the end. "I trusted you an' dis is what I get in return? No, no! I'm not havin' 'dis–"

"Mama," Angel sighed, rubbing his temples. "The phone call was from Mark…Jared, one of the other guys in Roger's band…just died. That was why I was…am crying."

"Mm-hm; an' why were you – 'scuse me?" Marcella blinked and stared for a few minutes. "Who's what?"

"Jared, Mama," sighed Angel, turning his face into his shoulder, "the keyboardist in Roger's band. He's a friend…"

"Oh, _Mijo_…," breathed Marcella, shaking her head at the information that yet another devastating helping had been spooned onto her son's plate. "I'm…_so_ sorry. And…oh, Collins, I'm, sorry to you, too. I just…"

"Understood," Collins assured, rubbing Angel's back through the thin cotton sheet he still had draped over his bare shoulders.

"Not Mark's boyfriend, right?" Marcella inquired, knowing that one of the members of Roger's band was involved with her son's former cabin-mate.

Angel shook his head. "No, that's Tony. I doubt he's doing too well, either, though…he and Jared are best friends. Jared…uh…he's…" he was sure he would completely break if he tried to use the past tense. "He's the one who plays guitar…he has blond hair?"

Marcella nodded and crossed her arms, not really knowing what to do with herself at the moment. She glanced between Angel and Collins. "So you two didn't…?"

Angel raked his hand through his hair and snapped, "Yes, Mom! We had sex. Not for the first time. Please, save the lecture. I really don't need it right now."

Marcella winced, realizing she was quickly becoming the medium Angel was changing his emotions into anger through and projecting said anger towards. She perched on the desk and ran her hand over her son's cropped hair, bringing his head to rest against her breast and ran a knuckle up and down his cheek. Angel squeezed his eyes shut and sobbed, his face changing into one of anguish. Swallowing harshly, he murmured, "_Mamá…cuando va a terminar?_"

Marcella shook her head, wondering that herself. "I…I really don't know, _Mijo_…I don't know."

Realizing that she wasn't going to get anyone in bed any time soon, Marcella got up and murmured, "I'm going to go make some tea. Collins…call your mother, please. Tell her where you are."

"She thinks I'm at Roger's," Collins mumbled.

Marcella rose a brow, giving him the look that worked ninety-seven percent of the time on her own son. But it apparently had no effect on someone unrelated to her, and she sighed. "First thing in the morning, okay? Call her and tell her what's happened and that your plans are off. I guess you don't have to tell her where you actually spent the night."

Collins nodded and when Marcella was gone walked to the other side of the room to pull out some pajamas for Angel – a white tank top and white shorts – and handed them to him before leaving his boyfriend to dress in peace.

The rest of the night was spent sitting around the kitchen table, silent and mourning. The sun began to peek up over the horizon some time around five-thirty and Marcella lifted the blinds to shed light onto the room. She rubbed her eyes, which were aching with exhaustion, and patted Collins shoulder while walking past him and up the stairs. Angel had wandered into the living room an hour earlier and laid across the sofa. He hadn't moved for some time, so Collins could only guess he'd fallen asleep.

Collins hadn't been close to Jared in any meaning of the word. He wasn't unaffected by the boy's death; he knew him well enough to know that the world had lost a good person. But the boy's death would affect him more through Angel than directly. His boyfriend had just had way too much piled onto him and he wondered if this would be the breaking point. Angel and Jared had been in Roger's band together and while they weren't the closest of friends either, they had gathered in Roger's garage almost every Saturday for the better part of a year, now. The blond would be missed badly by many people. All anyone could hope for now was a bit of solace; starting with the information of what had happened to result in the boy's death.

Eventually Collins tired of staring out into the early morning glow and snuck over to Angel so as not to wake him. He lifted Angel's body and slid in behind him, allowing the other boy to use his shoulder as a pillow and rested his cheek on Angel's head. He cradled the limp form in his arms and rocked him, planting a sweet kiss on his forehead or cheek every few minutes. Angel looked much younger when asleep. Much too young to be anyone's boyfriend or to have so much hanging over his head. Much too young to have to have gone through what he had. But he was and he did and he had. When those eyes opened, they would have the same sparkle despite the drama and the smile would still be able to be coaxed onto the beautiful face. He had no doubt that sometime he'd get him to laugh again. Someday…when they were away from the drama and the hurt.

Angel sighed in his sleep and turned into Collins' chest, curling into the comfortable and familiar presence in his sleep. Collins caressed his bare arm and whispered words of love and promises of forever into his ear, and tightened the arm around his body. When Collins gently removed Angel's glasses (Put on after the younger boy's eyes began to itch from having his contacts in for to long) in fear of the boy rolling over and breaking them, Angel stirred for a minute, his eyes fluttering open. He smiled, mumbled, "Mm…Love you…" before falling back into sleep.

All Collins could do was tell himself that it would be okay. It had to be.

* * *

"Mark, honey, is Tony alright up there? He says he doesn't want any dinner but…"

Mark sighed and stared at his mother from where he was putting food on two plates. "Mom…he's hurting. His best friend just died. And we can't get a hold of his mom…there's a lot going on in his head right now. I'll try to get him to eat something. I can't promise he will, but I'll try."

Hannah Cohen nodded and continued into the dinning room to have dinner with the rest of her family. Mark continued out of the kitchen and into his own room, setting the tea tray carrying the plates of food on the desk. Tony didn't look up from where he was sitting cross-legged on the bed, twirling a tassel of Mark's knit blanket between his thumb and forefinger.

"Hey," Mark murmured, smiling a bit and rubbing his hands together. He sat on the bed next to Tony and pulled his blanket away from the bespectacled eyes. "My mom made spaghetti… Probably not as good as your mom's, but it's your favorite."

Tony made a noncommittal grunt in the back of his throat and eventually mumbled, "Not real hungry."

"Tony," Mark sighed, folding his legs on the bed and turning towards his boyfriend, clasping his hands together as though about to pray. "Please, please, please eat something, babe! You haven't eaten all day! I know you're hungry and starving yourself won't bring Jared back! It doesn't work that way!"

Bringing his legs up to his chest, Tony buried his face in a pillow and shook his head, not wanting Mark to see him cry. Mark felt despair at the realization that Tony was about to start weeping again and crawled behind him. He took the broken boy in his arms and whispered to him. "Oh, God…I'm sorry, Tony. I didn't… Just please don't cry…you'll make me cry…"

Tony snuffled and pushed against Mark, burying his head in the strawberry blonde's shoulder. "Sorry, I just…"

"No…you know what?" Mark murmured, sweeping away the tears. "Forget what I said. Cry, okay? If you need to then just cry. I…I won't look."

"I don't think I have any tears left," Tony chuckled wetly, and Mark smiled to hear the Italian reverting to humor. Tony then grabbed him and muttered, "Stay."

"Okay…okay," Mark mumbled, trailing a hand through Tony's waves of dark hair. "I'm not going anywhere."

Tony laid his head on Mark's chest and Mark drew his knees up as though to hide the brunet from the outside world in his moment of weakness. After a moment or two of silence, Tony finally murmured, "Talk to me?"

"Uh…okay," Mark chuckled. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know…," sighed Tony. "Just…talk to me. Let me hear your voice."

Nothing pained Mark more than seeing his normally independent and strong boyfriend so reliant upon such simple comforts such as the sound of a familiar voice. But it did make a lot of sense; hearing Mark's voice right then, strong and confident, would ensure that he wasn't just about to loose someone else close to him, and maybe transfer a bit of strength to himself.

"Okay," Mark mumbled, furrowing his brows. He then grinned and gently crooned, "_So I'm holding him in my arms, and I'm givin' him sweet little kisses, and I'm tellin' him I'll never harm him, and he whispers how wonderful this is…_"

"Oh…I love this one," giggled Tony, nuzzling Mark's neck. Mark had a very unique singing voice; kind of throaty but high at the same time. It was unusual but not unpleasant at all to listen to. And Mark had been listening to the easy listening channel way too much lately so Tony had been subject to many an impromptu performance. "_And I tell him I'll be true…_"

"Skipped a line there," Mark pointed out.

"Yeah well…I just don't…"

"_And I tell him that I love him_," Mark whispered.

After a second came the choked reply, "I love you, too."

They had to wonder if the sweet moment was really appropriate, but something needed to ground them.

"You know," sighed Mark, playing with Tony's fingers. "Jared…he'd want to be mourned. But…he'd want us to move on eventually, right? We can't walk on tiptoes because we might insult his memory by doing things too soon, you know? So…we cry and wish it hadn't happened but…we'll move on."

"Eventually," Tony agreed. He then let out a huge breath and the action seemed to make him deflate against Mark. "I'll miss him so much, Mark…we were best friends practically all our lives and…God! This would be so much easier if I knew what happened!"

"We will in a while," Mark murmured. "I'll be the first one called when his mom finds out what happened." When the news had first come to be, Jared's mother had tried to call Tony only to get his mother. His mother had then called Tony and told him. Mark had managed to get Jared's mother's number from the Italian and had begged her to call him when she got news. Though reluctant to divulge that sort of information to a stranger she hadn't known, Mark assured her that Tony was in no shape to be in contact with anyone at the moment, so she'd allowed him access to her home number.

Tony's stomach growled and Mark chuckled a bit, standing and reaching for the still warm plates. "Here; eat something. It's good, really."

Tony grinned and took the plate. "Well…I wouldn't want to dishonor Hannah. She'd sick Arthur on me." For some reason, Tony had a huge amount of respect and fear towards Mark's father. Maybe because of the particularly passionate 'if you hurt him…' rant he'd received from the redheaded man when he and Mark had first started dating.

"Yeah…and Dad'll just have a staring contest with you," snorted Mark.

"Who do you know that can beat me at a staring contest?" Tony inquired, pointing to his bespectacled eyes. Tony had overactive tear ducts so his eyes were slightly shinier than normal and a lot of emotions got him crying. Happiness, anger, sadness, and hilarity all had him bawling quickly. It got annoying to Mark sometimes; he'd never been good with lots of emotion and here he was, stuck with someone whose emotions practically screamed 'here I am!' on his face, and mixed like fruit salad. He was learning to deal with it, though.

"My point exactly," replied Mark and Tony chuckled as he spun a bite of spaghetti onto his fork.

The phone rang.

Mark glanced at Tony and reached to his desk, slowly picking up the phone. "…Hello?"

"_Hi, Mark, it's Mrs. Thompson…"_

* * *

The doorbell at the Davis residence rang at seven o'clock that evening. Mimi had snuck out earlier that morning; she and Roger had gotten the news separately. Like Collins, she hadn't been close to Jared but figured she owed it to her boyfriend to check on him and make sure he was dealing with the news okay.

Caroline answered the door and smiled gently, nodding towards the stairs and Mimi took this to mean Roger was in his room. The Latina continued up the stairs and entered Roger's room to see him sitting on the window seat, strumming Charlotte (the guitar) and staring out the window. Sitting before the sunset, Mimi could only describe it as beautiful in a way. Not wanting to break his concentration, she simply made her presence known to him by sitting at his feet and smiling murmured, "Hi… How are you holding up?"

Roger shrugged, ceasing in the tune he was playing. Mimi had recognized it, but couldn't place it. "What were you just playing?"

"Musetta's Waltz from _La Boheme_," Roger chuckled, strumming it again. "I kinda play it unconsciously when I'm thinking and I have my hands on a guitar."

Mimi smiled as she fingered the guitar. "I saw that once with my cousin. I was only twelve so I could barely understand any of it…only that the seamstress had the same name as me and the musician had a name that sounded a whole helluva lot like Angel's."

Roger smiled and nodded. "It's one of my favorites."

"You really _are_ a poet, aren't you baby?" chuckled Mimi, running a hand along his cheek. "But seriously? Jared? How are you taking the news?"

Roger shook his head, shrugging. "I…I really don't know what you want me to say, Meems. We weren't the best of friends, but…he was a good guy. I'll miss him. And…I guess I'm kind of waiting for the shock to set in. I was talking to Collins and Angel's…falling apart, apparently. I guess I'm wondering why I'm not."

"First, I'm pretty sure Collins didn't use the words, 'falling apart'," Mimi assessed, "more like 'really upset'. Second…Angel's always had a thing about empathizing way more than necessary without realizing it. She's probably feeling her own grief, while imagining Tony's, and Jared's mother's to the point where that becomes her pain, too. You don't miss him less… You just deal with things differently. You'll miss him. But you're not gonna fall apart."

Roger nodded and sighed while pulling her against him and taking in her cinnamon scent.

"Would you ever consider letting me touch precious Charlotte long enough for me to learn to play her?" Mimi inquired, chuckling and fingering the strings again. "You'd be a better teacher than my cousin Carlos, I'm sure."

"Only if you promise not to hurt her," Roger declared, taking her hand away jokingly.

"Joy," Mimi sighed, "I'm getting cheated on with a guitar. Seriously; should I leave and give you two your room back?"

"Would you mind?" chuckled Roger.

"Okay…weirdness alert!" giggled Mimi, "joke gone too far there. Don't scare me like that."

Roger pecked her temple and laughed. Then the phone rang. Both teens stared at each other for a few seconds, silently questioning who should answer it, before Roger shrugged and lifted Mimi off his lap. After all, he _did_ live in the house and he wanted to get to it before his mom if it was someone calling for him.

"Davis residence, Roger speaking," he sighed, examining his fingernails. "Oh, hey Mark. Any news? Yeah? And…?" his eyes widened and he looked as if he'd taken a light blow to the chest. "Okay…thanks…yeah, man. I'll see ya."

He hung up, turned to Mimi, and let out a breath as he cross his arms and leaned against the dresser.

"What's up?" Mimi inquired. "Did they finish the autopsy?"

Roger nodded. "Yeah…"

"Well?" Mimi prompted, gesturing. "What happened? What took out our guy?"

"Mimi," Roger muttered, meeting her eyes with pain. "He…he OD'd."

* * *

The funeral was held on Tuesday. It was a small service; Jared's mother, father, and younger brother as well as an aunt or two and several cousins. Tony was allowed the honor to sit right in the front pew with the family. Then Angel, Collins, Mimi, Roger, Mark, Maureen, and Joanne sat in the next row back, with some of their parents behind them. Marcella had decided to come, as she knew there would be people needing a ride, too grief-stricken to be in any condition to be driving. Hannah and Arthur Cohen were also there, more for Tony and Mark than the actual deceased. Ally and Andy sat, clutching each other's hand between Tony and his mother, also in the front pew. They hadn't stopped crying since the news had struck them. Jared was a second big brother to them.

The priest seemed to drone forever. It got steadily hotter in the church and one of Jared's aunts was blowing her nose noisily what seemed about every five seconds, causing him to stop and continue once she was done. It was obvious she was exaggerating her grief.

The temperature in the church continued to rise and finally, Tony couldn't stand it. He quietly slipped from the pew and mumbled to his mother that he needed air. He gained a procession as he exited, when both Mark and Roger decided to follow him, Mimi skittering out after him. Collins sighed, shrugging at Angel and got up too, Angel allowing herself to be led out of the church. Maureen and Joanne followed.

"God, it's a sauna in there!" Tony cried, removing his suit jacket and sighing as the wind hit him. Mark nodded his agreement and took off his own suit jacket, taking Tony's as well and draping them both over his arm.

"Weren't you supposed to say something, Tony?" Angel inquired, sitting on the steps of the church.

"It was all pre-scripted," sighed Tony. "Nothing anyone else couldn't say. I just can't handle it in there. I don't wanna remember him that way."

"None of us do," Maureen assured, rubbing his arm. "And you're all holding up real well." she glanced around at those closest to their fallen comrade and they smiled back.

"Where to from here?" asked Roger, raising his brows. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm not going back in there and listening to the Jolly Roger rant for another half an hour about a subject he obviously knows nothing about."

"Hmm…" sighed Joanne, plopping her chin into her left hand. Everyone else gave various agreeing sighs and stared around, looking for inspiration from the scenery.

"I don't suppose anyone's hungry?" Maureen suggested, shrugging.

"I could eat something," mumbled Roger and cocked an eye at everyone else. Mark mumbled something about not having eaten breakfast and glared evilly at Tony when he opened his mouth. Tony's appetite had been worse than normal and he knew for a fact his boyfriend had barely touched any food since he'd left the critical eye of Hannah Sunday morning. Everyone else gave similar concurrences and that's how they ended up in the Life Café.

It was solemn and quiet for the majority of the dinner, until Mark stood and knocked on his glass. They were some of the only people in the restaurant and as they weren't making as much of a ruckus as normal, the other patrons hadn't spared them a glance for the most part. But now everyone in the restaurant looked up as Mark tapped his glass.

He cleared his throat, always having been afraid of public speaking, and said, "Uh…well, guys. I just wanted to say…"

Angel and Mimi were giggling behind their hands, and he blushed but continued, knowing they were only encouraging him in their own special way. They were laughing with him; not at him. "That even though we're here in light of a tragedy…we should at least do Jared the honor of making one big stand in his honor. So… shall we raise our glasses?"

"You bet your ass, baby!" Maureen cried happily, sloshing her root beer over the rim as she lifted it too fast.

"To Jared, and all he stood for," Mark finished. "Even if he didn't go in the best of ways, the world still lost a good person Friday night. You'd all agree, I'm sure."

"To Jared!" The all chorused, and gulped down the rest of their drinks.

Mimi then sprang up, and began, "There's no future…and there's no past."

"And for some people," sighed Roger. "This moment's their last."

"But," Mark stressed. "We've gotta live like there's no tomorrow…because there could not be."

"Follow the roads we're set on…keep continuing until there's nowhere left to go," Angel murmured.

"No day but today," Joanne rose her glass, and they all toasted that, too.

Mark smiled down at Tony and sat back down, hugging him to him. He whispered, "We'll get through this…really."

Tony looked up at him, cleared his throat, and murmured back, "Life will go on."

* * *

A/N: THAT SUCKED! I totally hated this chapter! The end sucked, the beginning sucked…I think the only parts of this I liked was the MiRo in the middle! And I'm sorry, I've once again neglected you MoJo shippers, but I'm still a bit uncomfortable with them! I'm really sorry! If you want MoJo, you can go read my story Splash...maybe? Perhaps?

I went to a concert recently! It was mainly Fall Out Boy, but also there were Hey Monday, All Time Low (They had a pink monkey humping one of the microphone stands, lol), Metro Station, and Cobra Starship. So yeah; that was awesome!

Another reminder: My RP site still needs a Mimi, Roger, Benny, and Maureen! Please join; we can't start until all of the characters are taken! Wetpaint(dot)bohemialives(dot)com!

Okay…I know this chapter was sucky, but would you mind telling me that in a review? Thanks so much! And thanks again so much to **Marky's Scarfy**!

-Lynn


	20. Epilogue: Graduation

A/N: This is it! My God! It's almost over! God, it's been a wild ride! I love every single one of you wonderful reviewers! You have just made his whole process so much easier and been so kind! I love you all and I so hope you will continue to be loyal to my stories! There may be a sequel. MIGHT. I'm not sure yet and I definitely can't make any promises as to whether I'll go through with it or not but just be looking out for it. :D In other news…I'm thinking of maybe doing an "Angel's Diary" thing. Chapter 16 (I think it was sixteen, anyway) was a little kinda-sorta experiment with doing that. Enjoy the last chapter and once again thank you so much to everyone! I love you all and you are so great and thank you all for your thoughtful and encouraging reviews!

Song of the Week (The last one, OMG): My Life Would Suck Without You – Kelly Clarkson. I'm probably gonna do a songfic on this…yup. Probably.

Disclaimer: Last disclaimer of the story! Let's make it an awesome one. I don't own RENT; Jonathon Larson does. But I do own all my own hope that it installed in me and I hope everyone who sees this movie/musical will experience the same feelings. Have a nice day, and Larson bless.

**

* * *

Epilogue: Graduation

* * *

**

Thomas Collins groaned and sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and glaring at the light streaming in through his bedroom window, outside of which a chipmunk was perched on a long branch of the oak tree which blocked half his window with it's voluminous green leaves. The chipmunk squeaked at the site of movement in the room it had been staring into and scampered into some unseen region of the tree.

Today was the day. Graduation; he was technically no longer a high school senior, but a freshman at New York University. He'd gotten accepted at many other schools, Stanford and MIT among them, but it just wouldn't do to be so far away. Only one day of school left, and it was all going to be over.

Suzan peeked her head in the room and smiled at her son, murmuring, "Hey, baby. Time to wake up; big day today, huh?"

"Yeah…," Collins grunted, rolling out of bed, "big day…"

"I ironed your robe," Suzan offered, holding up the blue graduation robe and hat. She hung them on the door and smiled at her son. He blinked back at her and she shook her head, entering the room and perching on one corner of his bed. "What's on your mind, baby? What're you thinking?"

Collins shook his head and shrugged, at a loss for words. "I guess…I don't wanna…"

"You don't wanna be a grownup, hm?" chuckled Suzan, shaking her head. "We all have to grow up, Tom."

"It's not that," he sighed. "I'm actually excited to get out there, but…not without…"

"You'll miss them," chuckled Suzan. "You miss _her._ But that's no reason to postpone your whole life. I've said it before, Tom…you're going to look back on this and realize they were good times, but it was just the start."

Collins rolled his eyes. "I knew you wouldn't understand. Just…I need to shower Mom, okay?"

"Okay, that wasn't the best way to put that," consented Suzan, "that girl is good for you. And you're good for her."

"I'm just so afraid that when I go away, I'll loose her," murmured Collins. "These sorts of things never work…"

"Then don't do anything stupid, boy!" cried Suzan, laughing, "it's as simple as that! And as for Angel…well that girl's been miserable for so long I don't think she'd do anything to lose you if her life depended on it! You've been her ground to stand on through everything she's gone through this year. And honestly, it's not like you're goin' outta state. Scarsdale is half an hour's drive from the city and gas is cheap."

With this statement came the realization that he'd been thinking like a fool and Collins chuckled at himself. "Okay, Mom. I see what you mean. But really…I've gotta get dressed."

"There," Suzan sighed, pinching his cheek. "That's my boy." She then soured and muttered, "Oh dear _God_…what will I have to go through with _Jessica_ when she's your age…?" before slipping out of the room while still contemplating this bleak future.

At seven-thirty, Roger arrived and agreed to a photo op, initiated by Caroline and Grams in which he and Collins struck all the ridicules poses they could think of. Finally their elders had had enough and herded them out to the car.

At school, they met Joanne in the front, already in her blue robes. Maureen was with her and hugged the anarchist and rocker for long periods of time, trying to hold back untimely tears and turning to Joanne in time to let out a wail and hang off her girlfriend. Joanne gave them the standard 'help me' look as she patted Maureen's back and attempted to hush her.

"Maureen's having a queen moment," trilled Collins' favorite sound behind them. He turned to see Angel and Mimi walking up the sidewalk. Marcella followed behind, and Abuela a little farther back, of course with the camera around her neck. The first thing she did was ask for more pictures, but Angel convinced her to please wait for Mark and Tony to show up so they could take a group picture with all four of the graduates of their group.

"Ang, baby, come with me for a sec, okay?" Collins requested, tugging on his boyfriend's hand. Angel nodded and followed Collins to a spot a little beyond their table under the tree, to a little clearing surrounded by trees. It wasn't far enough to drown out the voices of the school yard, but they weren't visible and could talk in private.

"What do you need?" giggled Angel as Collins ceased in his pulling her along and stopped abruptly, spinning to face her.

"First, c'mere," he murmured, and took her lips in a passionate kiss which had her gasping and rather disoriented. "Second…you know I love you, right?"

"Of course," she replied, furrowing her brows. "When was the last time you told me that? Yesterday? Not much has changed since that, I was pretty sure."

Collins laughed. "I know. I just never get tired of telling you that."

"And I never get tired of hearing it," Angel murmured, pecking his lips again. "Was that all you wanted?"

"Not exactly," Collins replied, shaking his head. "Uh…I'm not really sure if I'm doing this right, but just know I'm trying, okay?"

Not yet worried, though getting there, Angel simply nodded and watched as Collins became more and more flustered by the second. "I'm with you. Out with it."

"Okay…," Collins cleared his throat, took something out of his pocket, and knelt to one knee. Angel gasped, shaking her head.

"Oh, baby…," Angel whispered. "I love you so much but I…I can't be engaged at seventeen. If we were a year older and this was _my_ graduation, you have no idea how…ecstatic I'd be but…"

"Hear me out," Collins insisted, still smiling despite Angel's words. "It's a promise ring. There's a matching engagement ring and they were my mom's so I had to have it resized because my mom's fingers are smaller than your's but –"

"Tom, you're rambling," giggled Angel.

"My plan," continued Collins "is to propose to you, in this same spot, exactly one year from now. When you're eighteen and I'm nineteen and we can live for ourselves. And in return, I promise myself to you. So…?"

Angel bit her lip, smiled, and flew at him. "Yes. I promise!"

Collins laughed and lay with her on the vegetation-covered ground for a moment and murmured, "In a few years, every thing will be better. Something's gotta give."

"Something's gotta," came Angel's whispered agreement. "And then…we can stay in bed one morning and just kiss, right?"

"Right," Collins laughed, surprised she'd remembered the promise from so long ago.

"Yo! Lovebirds! Come out wherever you are; they need the graduates in the gym and if we're gonna get seats we'd better hurry, 'cuz the stadium's filling up fast!"

'_Mimi, you ruin everything'_, Angel decided that moment. She got up and pulled Collins to his feet. She started to walk off, before Collins grabbed her hand and slid the ring on. Giggling, Angel kissed him again and ran ahead to join Mimi. Her fellow Latina raised a brow and Angel just shrugged, pulling her lips into that universal 'I don't know' smirk. Mimi just shook her head and hopped up and down as they walked across the school yard and through the West parking lot to the football stadium. "I'm so excited, Chica!"

"Okay, calm down!" Angel cried, giggling. "I get that you're excited for Roger but really, Chica! It's not like you're one of the graduates!"

"I'ma datin' a college man, now!" Mimi exclaimed and Angel nearly fell over with laughter. Roger had surprised them all by actually applying for a few colleges. The only one he'd gotten accepted to was a small community college called Barker, but that was better than nothing. He was going for an associate's degree in liberal arts which was, again, better than nothing.

"You can't be serious," Angel sighed, raising a jokingly exasperated brow and shaking her head.

"Well I am!" Mimi cried, giggling. "And you are too! Feel proud of your accomplishments, Angel! Uh…what's on your finger?"

Angel blushed and tucked her hand behind her back.

"Oh no, girl! You're tellin' me!" she cried, grabbing Angel's hand. She gasped, staring at Angel with a gaping mouth. "You're really…?"

"No, not exactly," Angel informed, repossessing her hand from Mimi. "It's just a promise ring. His mom still has the actual engagement ring… I get the weird feeling I'm getting tested."

"Well, you'll pass obviously so there's nothing to worry about," Mimi insisted and then jumped at Angel, tackling her around the waist and crying, "congratulations on your kinda-sorta engagement! Which might as well be an engagement since that's your ring finger and everyone's gonna know who it's from and what it means! You're practically a married woman now, Ang! I wanna be your maid of honor…!"

"Mimi!" Angel laughed, prying her best friend away from her. "It's, like, two years away! We have plenty of time to plan for that! Let's just work up to graduating before we take the next big leap. Now come on, our guys are graduating today and I'll be God damned if I miss it!"

Mimi laughed and followed Angel into the line for the Stadium, and found where everyone else was sitting.

"…Without further ado, let's bring out our graduating class!"

This was the band's queue and they started up 'Pomp and Circumstance' as the signal for the seniors to start marching in from the locker rooms. Two abreast, they filed into the many assembled chairs on the field, facing away from the bleachers in front of the hastily-erected stage. Collins walked with Benny Coffin on his left and Roger right in back of him. The rocker had a girl named Alexi-something walking beside him.

It took a whole twelve minutes for everyone to get in the stadium, durring which all the seniors had to remain standing, shuffling their feet. Finally, the band stopped (much to the relief of the woodwind and brass players, whom had just about died playing for so long without a break) and graduating members of it scrambled to find their seats while everyone else was told to sit down with a sweeping gesture from the principal, Mr. Harlan. Collins was now right between Benny and Alexi-something with Roger on the other side of her and Tony on the far end of the row. The Italian leaned around Alexi-something-with-a-D and waved. Collins waved back and craned his head around, searching for Joanne. He found her sitting a few rows back and a three people over.

The principal reappeared and said a few more words before straightening as though about to make a large, important announcement. "Now, your commencement speaker; The Mayor of Scarsdale, Mr. Dwight Dawson."

Everyone clapped for the large African-American who stepped onto the stage. He had made a light, humorous speech, talking about how he himself was an alumnus and his experiences in the school. He was then treated with the same rousing applause as the walked offstage and Mr. Harlan appeared again.

"…Now, I'd like to introduce to all to our Valedictorian," announced Mr. Harlan. "He's been quite a bit of trouble over the years. But his smarts are unsurpassed and we've all…adjusted to his unique sense of humor. Where are you, Tom?"

Collins stood up and grinned when over the polite clapping emanated a yelp of, "THAT'S MY _MAN_!" from the stands somewhere behind him. This was followed by the sounds of two energetic Latinas and one drama queen cheering and screaming while their mothers (and Mark) were undoubtedly hiding their faces behind their purses or camera.

Butterflies swirled in his chest as he approached the mic and adjusted it to his height (Mr. Harlan was Collins' complete opposite; short, stout, and pale) before clearing his throat several times over, looking for the familiar faces. He found them halfway up and wasn't surprised to see Angel, Mimi, and Maureen standing up and annoying the people in back of them with their uprightness.

"Ah-hem, hi everyone," he said, waving. "Uh…nice day, ain't it?" the crowd laughed a bit, finding him humorous though not really sure what he was doing. "Look, I'm just gonna kinda wing this so bear with me. A lot of things have happened this year and not a lot of them were good. As you can tell, there are a few empty chairs here today." The students had been informed they were going to pay homage to those lost that year and make spaces for them, even though they weren't there to claim their spots. "And I think I speak for everyone when I say I'd like to initiate a moment of silence for those who aren't with us anymore." Just to make sure, he glanced at Mr. Harlan who smiled and nodded.

The crowd bowed their heads and waited out a moment in silence before Collins cleared his throat and continued. "Thanks. Anyway, I know people come up here and tell you all to 'be good, for goodness sake' and stuff like that but…I just want to tell you all that you're great people in your own way. I might not like some of ya," as he said this, he met Laurence McIntyre's eyes and the Linebacker sunk a little in his chair. "But I can look past that if you can.

"Some of you are going to go off right after this and start your lives; not bother with anymore schooling. Some of you are going after sports and arts dreams and I'm sure you'll make this school proud to see an alumnus up in lights. Some of you are going places, like Harvard," he grinned at Joanne, whom grinned back and held up and thumb, "and some of you have more practical dreams. But, wherever you're going, just know that you've made this school proud just by standing the test of four years and sitting here today.

"This school is what we arrived to, scared and foreboding in ninth grade. And we slowly evolved from there. Finding knowledge, and wisdom, and a wealth of many other things in its halls and I for one will never forget where I came from and my experiences in this school. Let's just vow to remember these years and I hope the best for all of you. I relate to you all in some way, and even if you think I don't, I feel the same pain as you. The happiness and sadness and anger that you have lives in me to. So instead of being them and us, for one day let's just be an us. Thanks."

Then he walked off stage. Everyone stared at each other for a few seconds, surprised at the abrupt end before someone – Angel, he was sure – cheered loudly. Everyone followed that, cheering and clapping. Mr. Harlan himself still looked a little confused when he stepped back to the podium but smiled and said a courteous, "Thank you, Tom." Before, without much preamble, beginning to announce the graduates.

There was a lot of whooping when Collins and Roger were handed their diplomas, and Collins nearly burst out laughing when Mark let out an almost involuntary yelp of, "Go Tony!" when the Italian limped on stage and took his diploma with a particularly hearty handshake from the principal. Tony grinned, even though the man had mispronounced his last name.

Once they'd received their diplomas, organization didn't matter much and they all gathered in a crowd at the base of the stage. Joanne found Roger, Collins, and Tony and hugged them all.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Harlan announced when he'd called the last name (Yamin, Ester) and given her her diploma. "I present to you the class of 1990."

There was a roar from both the crowd and the assembled graduates, whom removed their hats and threw them into the wind. Then a virtual wall of people came barreling out of the stands and before he knew what had hit him, Collins was enveloped in a huge hug, almost a tackle. Then something else found his knees and he bent down to pick it up. He was shocked to see a devastated looking Jessica in his arms.

"What's up, Jess?" He asked as his other attacker – Angel – backed off at the look on the now-eight-year-old's face.

"YOU CAN'T LEAVE, TOMMY!" She wept, squeezing her brother's neck. "PLEASE! I'M NEVER GONNA SEE YOU AGAIN!"

"Jess! Calm down!" Collins cried. "First, we've got the whole summer, and second I'm only going to the city. I'll be home every weekend. Third, you're kinda chokin' me here, kid."

Jessica loosened her arms and whined, "…Promise? Every single weekend?"

"Well, sweetie," Angel helped. "He'll have to do to classes sometimes on the weekend so not every single weekend but I promise if he's not over I'll come over, okay? And we can hang out and do girl stuff together."

"Will you still come over even when he is?" Jessica mumbled into Collins' shoulder, obviously conflicted.

"Well duh!" Angel cried, chuckling and patting Jessica's head. "I owe it to you. I can't let you deal with him for a whole weekend by yourself! Besides…I'll kinda miss him too." She smirked softly at Collins.

"…You two are gonna kiss now, aren't you?" inquired Jessica with a disgusted look on her face.

"Yup," Collins replied, setting her down as she made exaggerated gagging noises. "Be gone!"

Jessica went running off to find Suzan and Collins saw her whisper something in their mother's ear. Suzan chuckled and nodded, walking off towards Marcella.

"Well?" Angel asked, nestling in his arms. "You gonna hold that promise to your sister or leave us hanging?"

"Have I _ever _lied to you?" Collins inquired. Angel took in a deep breath and Collins rolled his eyes. "Cut me a break, Ang. I told you the sky was that color because you were being stupid and gullible."

"You said it was _green_. Don't you know what a green sky means, Tom?" Angel asked and Collins laughed.

"Well I sure hope I do after having my eardrum busted by you screaming at me." Collins rolled his eyes.

Angel simply kissed him and let out a happy sigh when he recuperated, cradling the back of her head and tipping her face up towards his the way he always did while her arms slipped around his neck. They kissed blissfully for a few minutes until Roger burst into the middle of them, laughing and sitting a graduation cap on Collins' head. There was no way to know it was his but Collins kept it on, knowing he'd never wear it again so what was the point in complaining.

Angel laughed and jumped at Roger, hugging him before going off to look for Tony and Joanne. Collins himself was then bombarded with squishes and squashes, and he laughed through all of them. But their gravitational pull never kept him far away from Angel or her from him.

They were connected. It would work out. It wasn't the beginning of the end, but the end of the beginning.

_

* * *

_

And every tear that had to fall from my eyes,  
From everyday I wondered how I'd get through the night,  
From every change, life has thrown me.  
I'm thankful,

_For every break in my heart.  
I'm grateful,  
_

_For every scar.  
Some pages turned,  
Some bridges burned,  
But there were lessons learned.  
Oh, some pages turned,  
Some bridges burned,  
But there were lessons learned.  
Lessons learned.  
Lessons learned.

* * *

__**Fin

* * *

**_

A/N: That was it, people! It's over, goodbye! I love you all and thank you sososososo much, one more time, LET'S HERE IT FOR **MARKY'S SCARFY**! I love you, Katie! Lol! :D Now, aren't you happy to see me gone? I'm not gonna be in your face every Friday and Tuesday? YEAH! I'M NOT MONOPOLIZING YOUR INBOXES ANYMORE! YOU SHOULD BE THRILLED!

JK…Someone out there loves me, right? You'll miss me, person who loves me, right? *Whine*

One last announcement: we may have a Mimi, so applying for her is out for the moment. But we _**STILL NEED ROGER AND BENNY**_! We could probably start without Benny, but we need a Roger! So if anyone out there would like to be Roger for the site The Bohemian Life (wetpaint(dot)bohemialives(dot)com) PLEASE go, read the rules, join the site, and submit your application! :D

And, one last time; please review!

-Lynn


End file.
